1 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE    MAN    WHO   WAS   GUILTY.      A   Novel. 

i6mo,  £1.25. 
THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM.   A  California  Story 

for  Young  People.     i6mo,  #1.25. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  COMPANY, 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 


BY 


FLORA  HAINES   LOUGHEAD 


BOSTON   AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFL1N  AND  COMPANY 

(£F)i-  Rilursibe  press, 


COPYKIQHT,  1896,  BY  FLORA  HAINES  LOUGHEAD 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


ps 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FAOE 

I.    SlNGEB   AND  PAINTEB 1 

II.  LAYING  DOWN  THE  LAW        ....  5 

III.  A  FRIEND  IN  NEED 21 

IV.  A  WARRANT  THAT  WAS  NOT  SWORN     .        .  25 
V.  Miss  JUDITH'S  INVESTMENT        ....  31 

VI.  UNDER  SIEGE 37 

VII.  A  WILLFUL  WOMAN 51 

VIII.  AN  ARMISTICE 63 

IX.  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 69 

X.  AN  ALARMING  DISCOVERY     ....  75 

XI.  A  SUBTERRANEAN  VOLLEY        ....  89 

XII.  MR.  PAUL  TO  THE  RESCUE     ....  97 

XIII.  Miss  JUDITH  FEELS  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE 

BLACK  CURTAIN 108 

XIV.  Our  OF  THE  SHADOW 118 

XV.  GOOD  COMRADES 121 

XVI.  A  LETTER 137 

XVII.  Miss  JUDITH'S  DISAPPEARANCE         .        .        .  141 

XVHL  A  MYSTERIOUS  TRYST 159 

XIX.  A  STORMY  INTERVIEW 164 

XX.  BOY  AND  MAN 168 

XXI.  AN  OLD  FRIEND 184 

XXII.  AN  APPEAL  FOR  CLEMENCY  ....  194 

XXIII.  A  MOUNTAIN  OF  GOLD       .        .        .        .    -    .  198 

XXIV.  A  STARTLING  ANNOUNCEMENT       .        .        .  207 
XXV.  ROB  TELLS  HIS  STORY 212 

XXVI.  "  WAITING  TILL  THE  CLOUDS  PASS  BY  "        .  217 

XXVII.  THE  TREASURE-SEEKERS 222 

XXVIII.  WINGED  RICHES .231 

XXIX.  THE  INTERVIEWER  INTERVIEWED      .        .        .  239 

XXX.   CALAMITY 246 

XXXI.  A  COWARD  MEETS  HIS  DESERTS       .        .        .  253 


iv  CONTENTS 

XXXII.  HEROISM 260 

XXXIII.  MR.  PAUL  BEHIND  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN          .  270 

XXXIV.  ROB  RECEIVES  A  COMMISSION         .        .        .  275 
XXXV.  ON  THE  TRACK  OF  A  COUNTERFEITER      .        .  279 

XXXVL  THE  MAN  IN  THE  PRIVATE  CAR  ...  284 

XXXVII.  ROB'S  POLITICAL  CONVERSION    ....  290 

XXXVIII.  A  CHAPTER  OF  REVELATIONS        .        .        .  298 

XXXIX.  THE  SHERIFF  MEETS  HIS  WATERLOO        .        .  302 

XL.  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN  is  LIFTED    .        .        .  309 

XLI.  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN  FALLS      ....  319 

XLIL  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN        .  322 

XLHL  CROSS  PURPOSES 329 

XLIV.  BOHEMIANS  TO  THE  RESCUE  ....  333 

XLV.  THE  WOMAN  OF  THE  PORTRAIT        .        .        .  343 

XL VI.  "THE  DEAREST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD"  .  347 

XL VII.  AMY  JUDITH'S  OPPORTUNITY     ....  351 

XL VIII.  RENUNCIATION 357 

XLIX.  LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS 363 


THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 


CHAPTER  I 

SINGER   AND   PAINTER 

ONE  night  a  great  audience  gathered  in  a  fashion 
able  hall  to  listen  to  a  voice. 

It  is  only  once  in  many  years  that  a  voice  is  born 
into  the  world  to  rejoice  all  mankind  with  its  sweet 
ness  and  power.  Even  then,  the  precious  gift  is  of 
ten  misused  and  injured  beyond  repair  before  it  has 
won  recognition.  This  voice  had  been  protected  and 
nurtured  and  trained  like  some  rare  and  sensitive 
plant,  and  it  had  expanded  and  taken  to  itself  new 
grace  and  melody,  as  the  plant  puts  forth  buds  and 
blossoms  and  grows  apace.  The  critic  had  heard  it 
and  been  unstinted  in  his  praise  ;  and  the  dilettante 
had  listened  and  almost  forgotten  to  find  fault ;  and 
now  the  common  multitude  were  waiting  to  render 
the  final  verdict. 

The  singer  faced  the  people  without  fear.  Her 
time  of  triumph  was  at  hand,  but  she  thought  not  of 
self  nor  of  the  plaudits  of  her  hearers.  To  her  the 
voice  was  a  divine  gift,  to  be  divinely  used.  When 
she  sang  she  forgot  self,  forgot  her  listeners ;  all  that 


2  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

was  earthly  fell  away,  and  she  reached  upward  to 
the  stars. 

The  orchestra  played  an  inspiriting  strain,  which 
died  away  in  a  low,  faint  prelude.  There  was  a  hush 
throughout  the  hall,  and  the  people  waited  in  pleased 
expectancy  as  the  girl  began  to  sing  the  famous  aria 
from  Norma. 

But  why  the  uneasy  stir  throughout  the  house,  the 
disappointed  glances,  the  spots  of  flame  that  glowed 
in  the  singer's  pale  cheeks,  her  startled  and  appeal 
ing  eyes  ? 

Instead  of  a  pure,  sweet  volume  of  melody  welling 
from  an  inexhaustible  fountain,  her  notes  were  like 
the  pealing  of  a  muffled  bell.  She  sang  bravely  on, 
summoning  all  her  strength  and  all  her  art  to  con 
quer  the  strange  huskiness  that  was  overpowering 
her.  Those  who  watched  her  closely  saw  her  slight 
form  tremble  and  sway,  the  bright  flush  on  her  face 
fade  into  a  deathly  pallor,  the  unshed  tears  gather 
in  her  eyes.  Then,  while  the  same  appalling  silence 
prevailed  throughout  the  audience,  she  turned  and 
left  the  stage,  an  uncrowned  little  Queen  of  Song, 
dethroned  with  her  foot  on  the  royal  dais.  / 

The  thoughtless  exposure  of  an  hour  had  ruined 
the  promise  of  a  lifetime,  and  the  voice  was  slain. 

And  the  singer  went  out  into  the  darkness  and  the 
night. 

That  same  day  a  painter  finished  a  commission  on 
which  he  had  been  working  early  and  late,  and 
turned  from  the  order  of  his  patron  to  set  down  on 
canvas,  before  the  mood  should  fail  him,  an  inspira- 


SINGER  AND   PAINTER  3 

tion  of  his  own  soul.  He  mixed  his  colors  and  plied 
his  brush  with  feverish  haste,  for  the  light  of  day 
was  waning.  Diligently  as  he  labored,  it  was  fruit 
less  effort.  His  wonted  cunning,  that  mingling  of 
delicate  fancy  and  consummate  skill  which  had  made 
him  the  foremost  man  of  the  day  in  the  younger 
ranks  of  his  profession,  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
failed  him.  A  strange  blur  was  on  the  canvas.  The 
room  seemed  to  reel  about  him.  A  brother  artist 
came  into  the  studio  and  watched  him  for  awhile  in 
silence.  At  length  he  spoke  :  — 

"  Hang  it,  Armitage !  What  are  you  trying  to 
do,  anyway  ?  Is  that  a  brook  or  a  road  ?  Is  this  a 
tree  or  a  man  ?  And  why  in  art  should  you  paint 
that  sky  green  ?  Is  this  some  latest  fantasy  of  the 
French  landscape  school  ?  " 

Armitage  caught  the  tone  of  genuine  vexation  un 
derlying  his  comrade's  badinage,  and  realized  that 
he  was  sincere.  He  stood  off  and  surveyed  the  can 
vas,  but  could  see  only  a  meaningless  daub  of  form 
and  color.  He  turned  to  the  picture  he  had  com 
pleted  that  morning,  and  which  had  already  received 
his  patron's  praises  and  the  gracious  approval  of  the 
press.  A  singular  haze  seemed  to  obscure  it. 

"  It 's  all  one  to  me,  Lane.  I  believe  my  brain  is 
going." 

"  Nonsense,  Armitage  !  It 's  not  so  bad  as  that. 
But  if  I  were  you,  I  'd  see  an  oculist  without  delay." 

The  next  day  Armitage  received  his  verdict.  His 
career  was  ended.  Unless  he  should  put  aside  brush 
and  palette,  and  give  himself  to  a  wholly  different 
vocation,  the  man  who  had  given  so  many  delightful 


4  THE  BLACK   CURTAIN 

visions  to  humanity,  and  whose  future  no  man  in  his 
profession  had  dared  to  measure,  must  sit  in  dark 
ness  all  his  life. 

Thus  wantonly  does  Fate  weave  her  web,  only  to 
cut  the  threads  at  the  moment  when  the  design  is 
well-nigh  perfected,  and  the  strivings  of  a  lifetime 
near  their  fruition. 


CHAPTER  H 

LAYING   DOWN   THE   LAW 

A  PLEASANT  brook,  having  its  source  in  the  high 
mountains,  and  flowing  down  through  wooded  foot 
hills  of  the  Coast  Range  to  join  the  larger  stream 
which  breaks  the  monotony  of  the  broad  valley  be 
low,  beyond  which  a  dimpling  sheet  of  sunshine 
marks  the  beginning  of  the  vast  western  sea.  Above 
the  brook,  on  one  side,  a  steep  bluff,  terminating  in 
a  noble  tableland,  where  clumps  of  live-oaks  spread 
cool  shadows  over  the  parched  grasses  of  early  sum 
mer.  On  the  other  side  of  the  stream  a  long,  level 
strip  of  rich  alluvial  land,  but  slightly  elevated 
above  it  and  covered  with  a  stately  growth  of  syca 
mores  and  alders.  In  the  bed  of  the  brook  mossy 
boulders  interrupt  the  crystal  current  or  overhang 
dark  pools  where  glittering  shapes  with  rainbow 
tints  flash  swiftly  from  sunlight  to  shadow.  Tangles 
of  wild  blackberry  vines,  roped  through  and  through 
with  late  blooming  clematis,  cover  the  ground,  and 
birds  sing  gayly  in  the  leafy  thickets  overhead,  or 
dart  downward  to  dip  their  soft  plumage  in  the  shal 
lows  and  to  slake  parched  little  throats,  poised  on 
projecting  stones  in  mid-stream. 

On  the  high  ground  to  the  west  of  the  gulch  a 
woman  superintended  the  erection  of  an  extraordi 
nary  dwelling-house.  This  structure  was  being  un- 


6  THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

loaded  from  a  large  farm-wagon,  drawn  by  four  stout 
horses,  and  it  was  being  set  up  in  sections.  The 
builder,  a  gaunt,  elderly  man,  with  a  kindly  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  could  not  repress  a  certain  humorous  grat 
ification  which  he  felt  in  this  triumph  of  modern  in 
genuity. 

When  he  reached  a  certain  stage,  he  stood  off  and 
reviewed  his  work  with  a  chuckle  of  satisfaction. 

"  Give  a  woman  her  head,  and  it  beats  all  how 
she'll  contrive!"  he  cordially  attested.  "We've 
only  got  to  clap  on  the  roof,"  indicating  something 
resembling  a  huge  jointed  sheet  of  pasteboard,  which 
was  leaning  against  an  oak  tree  near  by,  "  hang  on 
the  doors  and  sashes,  and  set  this  truck  inside,"  wav 
ing  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  a  tiny  gasoline  stove, 
a  couple  of  chairs,  a  tiny  dresser,  a  spring  mattress 
on  short  legs,  a  bamboo  table,  and  several  boxes, 
"  and  I  '11  eat  my  head,  Miss  Judith,  if  you  won't 
have  the  neatest,  snuggest  little  cabin  in  the  Vernal 
Hills.  House,  owner,  and  furniture  all  packed  up 
here  in  one  load,  and  not  a  very  heavy  one  at 
that !  "  He  chuckled  again,  glancing  at  the  slight 
figure  standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  gnarled  oak. 

The  woman  resented  this  reference  to  her  stature, 
drawing  herself  up  rather  stiffly  and  lifting  her  head 
proudly,  so  that  a  pert  little  chin  became  the  most 
conspicuous  feature  of  the  small  face  hidden  beneath 
an  odd  little  shaker  bonnet,  with  dark  blue  binding, 
puffed  crown,  and  frill. 

"I  —  I 'm  sure  Jack  —  Jack  —  Jack's  beanstalk 
was  n't  a  cir-cir-circumstance  to  it.  And  it 's  got 
a  heap  better  foun-foundations,  to  say  nothing  of  no 


LAYING   DOWN   THE   LAW  7 

ogre  waiting  to  gob-gobble  you ! "  attested  a  tall, 
lanky  youth  who  had  been  eagerly  assisting  in  the 
erection  of  this  unique  domicile. 

"Now  you,  Orlando,  you  shut  up  and  tend  to 
business.  What  you  mean,  anyhow,  trying  to  skeer 
Miss  Judith,  talking  about  ogres  an'  sech  like?" 
demanded  the  old  man  severely,  calling  his  errant 
scion  to  strict  account.  "'T  ain't  altogether  the 
boy's  fault,  ma'am,"  he  hastened  to  explain.  "  He  's 
a  regular  bookworm,  Orlando  is,  an'  his  maw  she 's 
always  been  encouraging  him  to  read  story-books. 
He  can't  swallow  his  ham  an'  eggs  of  a  morning,  if 
you  '11  believe  me,  without  a  book  propped  up  afore 
him." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  in  the  least  afraid,"  returned  the 
lady  lightly.  "  And  as  for  ogres,  I  'm  quite  used 
to  them.  I've  been  meeting  them  all  my  life,  at 
»  every  turn  of  my  path." 

Both  men  looked  mystified.  The  older  was  plainly 
disposed  to  institute  an  inquiry  into  the  lady's  san 
ity,  then  and  there. 

"At  present  there  is,  fortunately,  no  ogre  to 
trouble  my  castle  ;  and  if  you  hurry,  Mr.  Birdsall," 
she  slyly  added,  "  I  really  believe  you  can  get  my 
house  all  up  in  another  hour." 

At  this  unmistakable  hint  the  two  resumed  their 
labors,  while  the  lady  began  unpacking  some  dainty 
sash  curtains  and  various  feminine  fittings  and 
adornments,  and  gravely  entered  upon  the  task  of 
furnishing  her  dwelling  while  the  builders  were  giv 
ing  it  the  finishing  touches. 

Having  hung  several  swinging  sashes  in  the  win- 


8  THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

dow  casements,  and  tested  the  front  door,  which 
swung  noiselessly  on  its  hinges,  and  was  supplied 
with  a  nicely  fitting  bolt  of  ponderous  size,  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  strength  and  resistance  of  the 
edifice  it  was  designed  to  protect,  farmer  Birdsall 
untied  his  patient  team  and  prepared  to  return  to 
the  valley  below,  promising  the  lady  that  he  would 
always  be  on  hand  to  render  her  any  required  ser 
vice,  an  assurance  young  Orlando  echoed  with  an 
unction  that  did  amends  for  his  halting  speech. 

The  lady  listened  absently ;  her  attention  seemed 
to  be  directed  to  some  sound  up  the  canon. 

"What  is  that?"  she  asked  sharply.  "I  have 
been  hearing  it  all  the  morning." 

All  hearkened.     From  across  the  gulch  came  the 
unmistakable  thud  of  an  axe,  muffled  by  the  bank 
of  mist  that  had  drifted  up  from  the  sea  the  preced 
ing  night,  and  was  slowly  dissolving  in  the  after- , 
noon  sunshine.     The  crags  above  echoed  the  sound. 

"  I  swan ! "  exclaimed  Birdsall  the  father,  drop 
ping  the  lines  and  preparing  to  laboriously  descend 
from  his  elevated  seat. 

"  It  is  some  one  on  my  land,"  declared  the  wo 
man  indignantly. 

"  Some  blamed  old  greasers.  They  're  always 
cutting  down  oak  timber  wherever  they  can  get  a 
hold  on 't.  Now,  I  just  would  n't  wonder  if  't  was 
that  Cota  crowd  that  lives  over  the  slope  yon,  a 
clear  three  mile  away.  They  're  harmless  enough ; 
got  three  hundred  acres  as  prime  barley  land  as 
there  is  around,  but  rather  'n  put  it  into  hay  or  corn 
or  potatoes,  they  '11  climb  the  ridge  to  cut  wood  on 


LAYING   DOWN   THE  LAW  9 

government  land  and  sneak  it  down  on  burros. 
I  'm  afraid  you  '11  have  no  end  of  trouble  with  them, 
Miss  Judith,  and  that 's  a  fact." 

"  Miss  Judith,  the  —  the  —  the  days  of  chivalry 
may  be  go-gone  to  the  dogs,  but  if  you  say  the 
word,  I  '11  take  my  —  my  —  my  shotgun  and  crawl 
along  the  bluff  and  pep-pep-pepper  the  whole  crowd. 
I  will,  'pon  —  'pon  my  word,  if  it  costs  me  my 
life." 

"  Stop  your  foolishness,  sonny,"  said  the  father 
calmly.  "  We  don't  want  no  blood  and  thunder 
business  round  here.  It 's  an  ugly  thing  to  run  up 
agin,  but  what  we  want  is  to  consider  this  matter 
impassionately  an'  jewdiciously.  If  you  don't  mind 
having  the  firewood  cleaned  out  of  that  gulch,  Miss 
Judith  "  - 

"  But  I  do  mind.  I  shall  not  let  them  carry  off 
a  single  stick,"  she  returned,  with  decision. 

"Then  you  better  let  me  go  down  and  have  a 
word  with  them.  I  '11  lay  down  the  law  to  them." 

"  No.  Go  straight  home.  It 's  past  your  dinner 
hour  now,  and  your  wife  will  be  waiting.  I  can  lay 
down  the  law  to  them  myself.  They  won't  dare  "  — 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  with  com 
pressed  lips  and  a  little  toss  of  her  head  suggested 
the  dark  fate  that  would  overtake  the  malefactors, 
in  case  they  should  venture  to  resist  the  rights  of  a 
landed  proprietor. 

Yet  when  the  rattle  and  rumble  of  the  departing 
team  had  died  away  down  the  hillside,  she  almost 
regretted  that  she  had  not  accepted  the  old  man's 
kindly  offer.  Moving  toward  the  gulch,  and  stand- 


10  THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

ing  at  the  head  of  the  steep  trail  leading  down  to 
the  water,  she  became  conscious  that  the  dull  stroke 
of  the  axe  had  given  way  to  a  new  and  even  more 
significant  sound,  the  sharp  hiss  of  a  saw  as  it 
gnawed  its  way  through  green  timber. 

A  new  and  alarming  possibility  arose  before  her. 
Suppose  that  a  tribe  of  squatters  should  be  endeav 
oring  to  take  possession  of  her  land.  It  seemed  a 
reckless  proceeding  for  one  small  woman,  unarmed, 
to  attempt  to  defy  a  party  of  reckless  squatters. 
She  had  been  long  enough  upon  the  coast  to  know 
something  of  the  character  and  methods  of  these 
people.  She  had  read  of  the  manner  in  which 
bands  of  men,  some  of  them  outlaws,  and  others 
aliens,  yet  contrived  to  defeat  the  rights  of  honest 
settlers.  She  had  read  of  roads  and  trails  blocked 
or  rendered  impassable,  of  disputes  over  boundary 
lines  where  lives  had  been  taken  and  foul  murders 
remained  unavenged.  Yet  the  sense  of  proprietor 
ship,  the  stout  conviction  of  inviolate  personal  right 
which  has  before  now  made  heroes  of  cowards,  was 
strong  within  her. 

Stealing  softly  down  the  trail,  she  succeeded  in 
crossing  the  stream.  Threading  the  tangle  of  briers 
on  the  opposite  bank,  and  passing  a  jutting  ledge, 
she  came  suddenly  upon  a  clearing,  the  centre  of 
the  operations  to  which  she  had  been  hearkening. 

It  was  a  relief  to  find  only  one  man,  a  strong, 
athletic  fellow  in  overalls  and  white  sweater,  who 
was  kneeling,  saw  in  hand,  with  his  back  to  her. 
When  she  perceived  his  occupation,  her  indignation 
blazed  out  afresh. 


LAYING   DOWN   THE   LAW  11 

Upon  a  rude  ground  sill,  laid  of  rough  hewn 
young  alders,  he  was  actually  laying  the  floor  of  a 
house.  He  sprang  to  his  feet  as  she  succeeded  in 
making  her  voice  heard  above  the  scream  of  the 
saw.  In  spite  of  the  tumult  of  wrath  that  surged 
within  her,  she  could  not  but  appreciate  his  deferen 
tial  manner. 

"  Madam !     How  can  I  serve  you  ?  " 

He  spoke  with  formal  courtesy,  removing  his  hat 
as  he  addressed  her.  In  dismay  she  observed  that, 
instead  of  the  rough  boor  or  ignorant  Mexican  she 
had  expected  to  deal  with,  this  was  a  gentleman; 
and,  although  he  spoke  politely,  it  was  very  plain 
that  he  regarded  her  presence  as  a  most  distaste 
ful  intrusion. 

Over  Miss  Judith  swept  a  quick  conviction  that 
she  would  have  to  muster  all  her  resources  to  face 
and  rout  this  foe. 

"You  are  on  my  land,"  she  said  distinctly  and 
coldly.  "  I  am  sorry  that  I  must  tell  you  to  leave. 
I  came  to  notify  you.  I  cannot  permit  this  to  go 
on,"  waving  her  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  incom 
plete  floor  and  the  small  pile  of  lumber  near  by. 

"  Unless  I  am  sadly  misinformed,  this  is  a  quarter 
section  of  government  land  that  was  not  surveyed 
or  filed  upon  up  to  three  o'clock  yesterday,  and  that 
has  not  a  sign  of  a  habitation  upon  it,"  returned  the 
stranger,  quite  as  firmly  and  decisively. 

"  My  house  is  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stream." 

The  stranger  stared  at  her  in  unfeigned  astonish 
ment. 

"  I   came   over   the   ground  yesterday   with   my 


12  THE  BLACK   CURTAIN 

lumber.  We  unloaded  it  at  the  head  of  the  trail. 
I  camped  there  last  night.  I  can  swear  there  was 
not  a  stick  of  timber  other  than  my  own,  or  a  hu 
man  being,  within  a  mile  of  here  at  that  time." 

"  Nevertheless,  my  house  is  there.  The  roof  has 
just  been  fastened  on.  You  can  go  and  see  for  your 
self,"  retorted  the  lady  triumphantly. 

"  Madam,  are  you  sure  you  are  not  dreaming,  or 
have  n't  you  lost  your  bearings  ?  Houses  are  not 
built  in  a  day." 

"  Mine  is  not  a  board  house.  It  is  a  patent 
house,"  returned  the  lady,  with  dignity. 

"  A  patent  —     I  beg  pardon  ?  " 

"  A  patent  house.  Made  of  paper  pulp  or  some 
thing  of  the  kind,  compressed.  It  comes  in  sec 
tions,  all  ready  to  set  up." 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  such  a  structure  comes  within 
the  requirements  of  the  law,"  remarked  the  inter 
loper  gravely.  Then,  remembering  his  duty  as  a 
host,  albeit  his  right  to  act  as  such  was  under  chal 
lenge,  he  motioned  in  the  direction  of  the  pile  of 
lumber. 

"Please  be  seated.  Let  us  discuss  this  matter 
fairly  and  dispassionately,  Madam  —  Miss  "  — 

"Judith.     Miss  Judith." 

"Hang  it!  A  very  Gorgon  of  a  name.  Goes 
well  with  her  errand  and  speech !  "  was  his  secret 
comment,  as  he  bent  forward  and  tried  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  face  the  little  shaker  so  effectually 
concealed.  Aloud  he  said :  — 

"  And  my  name  's  Paul." 

She  acknowledged  the  introduction  with  a  stiff 


LAYING  DOWN  THE  LAW  13 

little  bow.  Mr.  Paul  deliberated  in  silence  for  some 
moments.  .The  woman  took  advantage  of  the  op 
portunity  to  look  about  her.  The  smouldering 
embers  of  a  camp-fire,  surrounded  by  a  few  rude 
cooking  utensils,  showed  where  her  rival  claimant 
had  prepared  his  noon  meal.  A  pair  of  gay  Navajo 
blankets  were  airing  on  some  bushes,  and  near  at 
hand  a  couple  of  packing  cases  had  been  hastily 
opened,  and  a  portion  of  their  contents,  consisting 
of  a  miscellaneous  assortment  of  clothing,  tools,  and 
various  personal  belongings,  were  scattered  about 
on  the  ground.  A  larger  case,  standing  a  little 
apart,  also  had  its  cover  lifted,  but  its  contents  were 
apparently  undisturbed,  except  that  spread  over  the 
top  and  hanging  down  over  one  side  was  a  piece  of 
black  drapery,  so  dense  and  heavy  that  it  at  once 
attracted  and  held  the  woman's  attention.  She 
shivered  as  she  looked  at  it. 

"  What  a  singular  thing  to  bring  to  a  mountain 
camp !  "  she  reflected.  "  It  looks  like  a  funeral 
pall." 

Her  meditations  were  interrupted  by  Mr.  Paul. 

"At  what  time,  may  I  ask,  did  you  commence 
building  operations  ?  " 

"  I  came  up  with  Mr.  Birdsall  and  his  son.  They 
were  very  prompt.  We  started  from  the  valley  at 
daybreak  —  let  me  see  —  at  twenty  minutes  to  six 
this  morning." 

"  The  very  hour  that  I  began  carrying  my  lumber 
down  the  trail." 

"  And  he  began  to  set  up  my  house  at  precisely 
eight  o'clock,"  continued  the  lady. 


14  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  The  deuce !  "  said  Mr.  Paul,  this  time  expressing 
himself  aloud.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  that  does 
complicate  matters.  I  'm  a  punctual  sort  of  fellow 
myself  when  I  have  work  on  hand.  It  was  exactly 
eight  when  I  hung  my  watch  on  that  tree,"  nodding 
in  the  direction  of  a  sycamore  sapling  behind  her, 
"  got  out  my  axe  and  hammer  and  saw,  and  began." 

"  But  I  had  three  of  the  lines  run  by  a  surveyor 
—  unofficial,  of  course,  —  week  before  last,"  retali 
ated  Miss  Judith,  with  a  little  nod  that  struck  Mr. 
Paul  as  being  extremely  saucy  and  disagreeable. 

"  I  'm  ahead  of  you  there.  I  struck  the  spot  when 
I  was  traveling  through  the  hills  two  years  ago.  The 
friend  who  was  with  me  was  a  civil  engineer.  He 
ran  all  four  of  the  section  lines,  and  I  helped  him. 
We  even  christened  this  little  stream  Escondido,  or 
Hidden  Creek." 

"  If  running  the  lines  gives  one  any  legal  advan 
tage,  which  I  very  much  doubt,"  retorted  the  lady, 
shamelessly  abandoning  her  own  attitude  of  the  pre 
vious  moment,  "  I  am  sure  that  must  have  been  out 
lawed  long  ago.  Anyhow,  you  have  n't  a  shadow 
of  a  squatter's  right  until  your  house  is  up,  and  mine 
is  ready  for  occupancy.  I  shall  have  Mr.  Birdsall 
take  me  to  the  station  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  take 
the  evening  train  and  go  straight  to  the  Land  Office 
in  Los  Angeles,  and  ask  them  to  make  an  official 
survey  of  the  land,  that  I  may  file  upon  it." 

"  And  I  shall  get  this  shanty  in  some  sort  of  shape 
to-morrow  night,  if  I  have  to  work  all  night,  and 
leave  off  doors  and  windows,  and  roof  it  with  blan 
kets.  Then  —  I  know  a  trail  that  leads  across  the 


LAYING  DOWN  THE  LAW  15 

range.  I  have  the  fleetest  pony  in  the  district," 
pointing  to  a  spirited  sorrel  grazing  near  by,  whose 
splendid  chest,  neat  hoofs  and  stocky  legs  bore  wit 
ness  to  his  broncho  blood.  "  I  shall  go  directly  to  the 
county  seat  and  file  my  application  for  a  survey." 

"  I  shall  contest  it,"  asserted  the  woman,  with 
such  fire  and  decision  that  the  rival  claimant  gave 
her  another  curious  look.  But  the  ugly  shaker  kept 
its  own  counsel. 

"  And  waste  all  your  substance  in  litigation.  I 
warn  you  that  I  am  an  obstinate  fellow,  and  never 
give  up  a  just  cause." 

The  idea  of  this  unceremonious  scramble  to  estab 
lish  their  rights  evidently  did  not  appeal  to  either  of 
these  enterprising  settlers.  After  a  long  pause,  dur 
ing  which  the  man  scrawled  cabalistic  figures  on  his 
lumber,  and  the  lady  strung  some  belated  alfilaria 
blossoms  on  a  blade  of  grass,  he  broke  the  silence. 

"  What  does  your  family  consist  of,  Miss  Judith  ? 
I  infer  that  you  are  its  head." 

"  There  is  no  one  but  myself,"  replied  the  lady,  in 
a  low  tone. 

"  Then  listen  to  me,  Miss  Judith.  I  —  really  I 
very  much  dislike  to  enter  a  contest  with  a  lady. 
Could  n't  we  settle  on  some  amicable  basis  ?  Let 
me  offer  a  suggestion.  Three  miles  below  here,  in 
the  heart  of  the  fertile  valley,  there  is  a  strip  of  land 
forty  feet  wide  and  half  a  mile  long,  about  three 
acres  in  all,  which  by  some  odd  blunder  was  omit 
ted  from  the  original  survey.  My  friend,  the  sur 
veyor,  told  me  about  it.  It  runs  along  the  edge  of. 
one  of  the  most  valuable  ranches  in  the  valley,  and 


16  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

the  owner  would  have  entered  it  long  ago,  but  he  is 
already  the  proprietor  of  a  tract  that  bars  his  right 
to  acquire  government  land  in  this  State,  and  he  has 
conscientious  scruples  against  making  a  dummy  en 
try.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  no  one  has  any  title  to  it, 
and  you  could  homestead  it  to-morrow.  Small  as  the 
strip  is,  it  is  in  a  region  where  high  values  rule,  and 
is  already  worth  ten  times  as  much  as  this  will  be  in 
our  lifetime.  One  of  these  days  the  settlement  about 
it  will  become  a  village,  and  you  will  be  the  lucky 
possessor  of  town  lots.  Moreover,  it  is  —  excuse  me 
for  saying  so  —  in  a  much  more  desirable  and  suit 
able  neighborhood  for  a  lady  to  live.  Your  present 
locatiort  is,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  a  very 
lonely  and  isolated  one  for  a  lady." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Paul.    I  am  afraid  of  nothing." 

"  And  it  is  very  unprotected." 

"  But  I  have  a  most  efficient  protector." 

"  The  land  I  have  been  telling  you  about  is  in  a 
pleasant  neighborhood,"  persisted  the  man,  his  voice 
betraying  his  vexation,  "  convenient  to  town  and 
market,  and  with  a  church  close  by." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  it  yourself  ?  " 

"I  —  oh,  I  prefer  the  hills." 

"  So  do  I." 

The  young  man  drew  out  his  pocketknife  and 
carved  his  pencil  in  silent  wrath.  He  had  an  un 
comfortable  conviction  that  the  face  in  the  shaker 
was  laughing  at  him.  But  his  resources  were  by  no 
means  exhausted. 

"  Then  let  me  tell  you  of  another  place.  Five 
miles  from  here,  but  also  in  the  hills,  there  is  a 


LAYING   DOWN  THE   LAW  17 

quarter  section  of  surveyed  land,  better  than  this,  of 
which  I  also  learned  through  my  friend  the  sur 
veyor.  It  was  entered  by  an  old  man  nearly  seven 
years  ago.  He  died  after  living  there  three  or  four 
years,  and  after  awhile  his  children  abandoned  the 
claim  without  proving  up.  In  six  weeks  the  claim 
will  have  lapsed,  and  be  open  to  entry  without  con 
test.  For  the  present,  according  to  custom,  it  stands 
in  his  name  on  the  government  maps.  Only  a  few 
are  aware  of  the  state  of  the  title,  or  it  would  have 
been  snapped  up  long  ago.  It  is  directly  on  a  good 
traveled  road,  has  a  few  orchard  trees  well  started, 
some  twenty  acres  are  cleared,  and  there  is  a  valu 
able  water  right.  It  is  really  a  rare  chance." 

"  You  are  perfectly  free  to  take  advantage  of  it," 
replied  the  lady  coldly. 

"  But  I  prefer  this." 

"  So  do  I." 

"  The  deuce  !  " 

This  time  the  lady  laughed  aloud  —  a  clear,  musi 
cal  laugh  that  blended  with  the  ripple  of  the  brook 
below.  He  was  so  plainly  exasperated  that  she 
instantly  grew  grave  again. 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  await  the 
survey.  For  the  present  we  may  as  well  declare  a 
truce,  I  suppose,"  he  said  with  resignation. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  returned  Miss  Judith  reluctantly. 
"  Of  course  I  have  the  prior  claim.  But  one  of  us 
may  die,  or  decide  to  go  away.  Of  course  I  shall 
not  go  away,"  she  added  quickly,  evidently  fearing 
that  her  antagonist  might  imagine  she  was  making 
some  concession. 


18  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  But  you  may  die,"  he  suggested. 

"  That  is  —  inhuman  !  " 

This  accusation  discomfited  the  enemy.  He  has 
tened  to  defend  himself.  "  But  it  was  your  own 
suggestion.  What  am  I  to  infer,  then  ?  That  the 
mortality  may  be  on  my  side  ?  " 

"  You  need  infer  nothing  ;  I  was  only  generalizing. 
It  is  often  extremely  indelicate  to  particularize." 

For  one  swift  instant  the  shaker  was  lifted,  and  a 
pair  of  flashing  gray  eyes  blazed  at  him.  The  next 
instant  the  slight  figure  had  taken  an  unceremonious 
leave. 

He  took  up  a  handful  of  nails  and  eyed  them  re 
flectively,  then  seized  his  hammer  and  addressed 
himself  to  work.  For  a  few  moments  the  stroke  of 
his  hammer  kept  time  with  her  fleeing  footsteps ; 
but  the  sorrel  horse  lifted  his  head  and  whinnied  as 
she  plunged  down  into  the  thick  underbrush. 

His  master  had  evidently  lost  his  zest  for  his  task, 
for,  after  laying  a  single  strip  of  flooring,  he  sat 
down  upon  it  and  gravely  considered  the  singular 
complications  in  which  he  found  himself  involved. 

"  It  might  be  worse,"  he  decided.  "  If  she  were 
an  old  woman,  infirm  or  feeble,  I  would  have  to  lay 
down  my  arms  and  surrender  without  quarter.  Or 
if  she  were  a  young  matron  with  a  houseful  of  chil 
dren,  she  might  have  routed  me.  Happily  the  case 
is  altogether  different.  I  '11  venture  she  's  a  peppery 
little  schoolmarm  of  uncertain  age,  who  has  for 
some  reason  temporarily  abandoned  her  profession 
to  seek  a  sentimental  retreat  amid  mountain  soli 
tudes  uncontaminated  by  the  tread  of  man.  Or 


LAYING  DOWN   THE   LAW  19 

f 

she  's  a  new  woman,  adopting  misanthropy  as  a  novel 
and  interesting  fad.  In  either  case  she  '11  soon  get 
disenchanted,  or  be  ready  to  listen  to  a  reasonable 
proposition  for  a  compromise.  '  Afraid  of  nothing ! ' 
Hang  her  independence  !  " 

His  meditations  were  disturbed  by  an  appalling 
sound,  —  the  cry  of  a  woman  in  mortal  peril. 

With  the  instinct  of  a  mountaineer,  he  caught  up 
his  rifle,  which  was  leaning  against  the  bole  of  a 
live-oak,  and,  guided  by  this  piercing  cry,  ran  swiftly 
down  the  path  to  the  brook,  leaped  the  shallow 
stream,  and  sprang  up  the  steep  trail  leading  to  the 
mesa  above.  The  tall  trees  on  either  side  inter 
locked  their  branches  overhead,  and  the  dense,  leafy 
canopy  through  which  only  an  occasional  ray  of  sun 
light  found  its  way,  produced  a  perpetual  twilight. 

Near  the  head  of  the  trail,  he  saw  the  slight  figure 
of  his  visitor.  Half  fainting  with  terror,  not  daring 
either  to  advance  or  retreat,  she  was  clinging  to  the 
bough  of  a  friendly  oak,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  an  ob 
ject  further  along  the  path. 

Mr.  Paul  gained  her  side,  and,  to  his  horror,  saw 
in  the  dim  light  the  huge,  tawny  shape  of  a  Califor 
nia  lion,  its  sinewy  form  poised  uncertainly,  as  if  it 
were  doubtful  whether  to  spring  upon  its  prey  or  to 
beat  a  cowardly  retreat,  its  great  head  outstretched 
and  dully  regarding  the  lady,  the  long  tail  vigorously 
lashing  the  weeds  that  lined  the  trail. 

Quickly  and  stealthily  the  man  raised  his  rifle  to 
his  shoulder  and  was  bringing  his  eye  to  bear  upon 
the  sights,  when  a  small  hand  gripped  his  arm  and  a 
soft  voice  implored  him,  — 


20  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  Don't  kill  him !     Oh,  please  don't  kill  him  !  " 

So  extraordinary  and  unexpected  was  this  request 
that  Mr.  Paul  committed  a  most  unsportsmanlike 
act.  With  the  ferocious  beast  but  a  couple  of  rods 
away,  and  liable  to  spring  the  next  instant,  he  paused 
with  his  finger  on  the  trigger,  and  took  his  eye  from 
the  sights  to  turn  it  upon  his  rival  claimant. 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  kill  him.  Could  n't  you  try 
him  with  a  piece  of  meat  ?  " 

Several  queer  thoughts  pursued  each  other  through 
the  young  man's  brain  at  this  remarkable  proposal 
to  bait  a  mountain  lion.  He  was  convinced  that 
either  he  or  the  lady  had  gone  daft.  On  the  whole, 
he  was  inclined  to  accredit  this  unhappy  infirmity  to 
himself,  for  the  rapidity  with  which  he  was  obliged 
to  revise  his  previous  conceptions  of  her  was  in  itself 
bewildering.  The  shaker  had  fallen  off,  and  in  her 
terror  Miss  Judith  had  forgotten  that  he  was  her 
enemy,  forgotten  her  own  threats  and  pledges  of 
heroic  resistance  to  his  pretensions,  and  was  clinging 
to  his  arm  with  her  pleading  face  uplifted. 

Instead  of  the  vinegary  spinster  of  withered  as 
pect  and  uncertain  years  whom  he  had  imagined 
hidden  away  beneath  the  disfiguring  bonnet,  he  saw 
a  woman,  young  and  beautiful.  The  sunlight  had 
tangled  itself  in  the  brown  hair,  banded  about  the 
small  head  like  a  coronet  and  escaping  in  soft  ten 
drils  over  her  white  forehead.  Her  mouth  was  wist 
ful  as  a  child's,  her  skin  the  texture  of  the  rose  leaf, 
and  the  large  beseeching  eyes  that  she  lifted  to  him 
were  gentle  and  moist  as  spring  violets. 


CHAPTER  in 

A   FKIEND   IN   NEED 

THE  young  man's  common  sense  asserted  itself 
and  recalled  him  to  a  realization  of  their  danger. 

"My  dear  child,"  he  cried,  taking  an  odd  de 
light  in  this  paternal  form  of  address.  "  A  moun 
tain  lion  is  not  a  beast  to  be  trifled  with.  Let  me 
fire." 

"A  mountain  lion!  Oh,  dear!  A  mountain 
lion  ?  He  's  mine !  " 

The  girl  burst  into  a  little  irrepressible  laugh. 

Never  was  a  sportsman  in  such  an  embarrassing 
position.  Mr.  Paul  lowered  his  weapon  in  despera 
tion,  still  keeping  a  vigilant  eye  on  the  animal, 
which  lashed  its  long  tail  more  vigorously  than 
ever. 

"  Miss  Judith,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me 
if  you  're  the  keeper  of  a  menagerie  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  dog.  My  big  mastiff,  Hercules.  War 
ranted  dangerous  and  guaranteed  to  defend  me 
against  all  intruders.  But  I'm  horribly  afraid  of 
him.  Mr.  Birdsall  tied  him  up  for  me.  He  has 
somehow  broken  loose." 

It  was  Mr.  Paul's  turn  to  laugh,  and  the  hills  re 
echoed  his  boisterous  merriment,  while  the  mastiff 
wagged  his  tail  with  renewed  energy. 

"  Don't  touch  him !     He  '11  bite.     The  man  who 


22  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

sold  him  to  me  in  San  Francisco  assured  me  he  had 
nearly  killed  several  men." 

But  the  young  man  already  had  his  hand  on  the 
dog's  head,  and  the  mastiff,  instead  of  resenting  this 
familiarity,  seemed  gratified,  and  wag  rubbing  against 
his  knee  and  smelling  of  his  pockets. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  dare,"  said  the  girl,  aghast 
at  this  foolhardiness.  "  I  know  I  shall  never  dare 
touch  him." 

"  Oh,  dogs  always  like  me.  And  you  're  a  good 
fellow,  are  n't  you,  Hercules  ?  I  believe  he  's  not  at 
all  bloodthirsty,  but  honestly  hungry,  Miss  Judith. 
I  'm  afraid  you  don't  feed  your  mountain  lions 
well." 

He  felt  in  his  pocket  and  brought  forth  a  small 
sandwich,  wrapped  in  a  paper  bag.  The  dog  de 
voured  this  greedily,  after  which  Mr.  Paul  inserted 
his  hand  beneath  the  animal's  leather  collar  and 
led  him  up  the  trail.  The  girl  followed,  in  a  brown 
study. 

"So  this  is  the  house?" 

She  nodded,  but  did  not  venture  to  invite  his 
opinion,  as  he  critically  regarded  the  exterior.  At 
tached  to  a  stout  staple  in  a  tree  beside  the  cabin, 
was  a  bright  steel  chain.  The  young  man  examined 
it  and  held  up  a  broken  snap  on  the  end. 

"  You  can't  hold  this  great  fellow  with  any  such 
flimsy  fastening.  A  rope  is  the  proper  thing  for 
him.  A  good,  strong  rope,  something  as  near  a 
cable  as  you  can  find.  Ah,  here  is  a  piece  that  will 
do  for  the  present." 

From  amid  the  rubbish,  neatly  tucked  away  in  a 


A  FRIEND   IN  NEED  23 

packing  case,  he  drew  a  short  piece  of  half-inch 
inanila  and  secured  one  end  to  the  animal's  collar, 
and  the  other  to  the  staple  in  the  tree. 

"  I  think  this  will  answer,"  he  said,  examining 
the  knot,  then  letting  the  rope  fall  from  his  hand. 
"  When  you  want  to  let  him  go,  you  need  only  to 
untie  the  rope  from  his  collar  and  leave  it  hanging 
here." 

"  But  I  shall  never  dare  untie  him,"  replied  the 
girl  despondently. 

"  Then  what  possible  protection  can  the  animal 
be?  Any  ill-disposed  person  could  easily  storm 
your  castle  from  the  other  side.  Indeed,  it  would  n't 
take  much  of  an  athlete  to  pick  it  up  and  carry  it 
off." 

"  I  am  not  half  as  much  afraid  of  ill-disposed  per 
sons  as  I  am  of  my  dog,"  confessed  the  girl  reluc 
tantly. 

"  Now,  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do,"  proposed  the 
young  man.  "  Of  course  it 's  perfectly  absurd  for 
you  to  have  this  dog  chained  up  here  all  the  time, 
so  that  he  cannot  be  of  the  least  use  to  you.  If  you 
like,  I'll  come  up  here  every  night  and  let  him 
loose,  and  then  every  morning,  as  soon  as  I  get  up, 
I  '11  come  around  and  tie  him  up  again.  In  that 
way  you  can  feel  perfectly  easy  at  night,  for  I  really 
think  the  animal  is  capable  of  taking  care  of  any 
stray  traveler.  And  in  the  daytime  you  will  be 
able  to  go  about  without  the  slightest  fear  of  the 
dog." 

The  girl  made  a  faint  protest  that  this  would  be 
altogether  too  much  trouble  for  Mr.  Paul ;  that  she 


24  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

could  not  think  of  taxing  him  in  this  way ;  but  her 
neighbor,  who  seemed  to  be  a  very  amiable  young 
fellow  when  clashing  land  titles  were  not  in  ques 
tion,  assured  her  that  he  would  not  mind  it  in  the 
least ;  that  he  had  always  been  in  the  habit  of  tak 
ing  a  walk  night  and  morning,  and  that  it  would  be 
no  hardship  whatever  to  direct  his  steps  in  this 
direction.  So  the  strange  compact  was  sealed,  and 
Mr.  Paul  took  his  departure,  to  resume  operations 
upon  the  domicile  which  was  to  support  his  adverse 
claim  when  the  land  should  be  surveyed  and  placed 
upon  the  market. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  WAKKANT  THAT  WAS  NOT  SWORN 

To  one  who  has  always  lived  in  a  crowded  com 
munity,  where  all  nature  has  been  mutilated  by  the 
hand  of  man,  there  is  a  rare  delight  in  awakening, 
day  after  day,  to  the  grace,  tranquillity,  and  beauty 
of  nature  fresh  from  the  hand  of  its  Creator.  Miss 
Judith,  who  had  all  her  life  breathed  the  murky  air 
of  the  city,  whose  small  feet  had  ever  trodden  damp 
or  dusty  pavements,  and  whose  eyes  had  been 
bounded  by  walls  of  brick  or  stone,  with  only  an 
occasional  escape  to  a  sea-beach  swarming  with  peo 
ple,  or  a  great  artificial  park  laid  out  by  rod  and 
rule,  and  with  forbidding  signs  on  every  grass-plot 
and  flower  border,  had  now  entered  upon  a  charmed 
existence. 

She  was  sitting  out  under  her  oaks,  engaged  in 
some  light  needlework,  the  next  morning,  enjoying 
the  bright  sunshine  and  the  twitter  of  birds,  uncon 
sciously  absorbing  the  beautiful  picture  spread  out 
below  her,  when  the  clatter  of  hoofs  and  rattle  of 
wheels  resounded  on  the  road  below,  and  the  good- 
natured  ranchman  who  had  aided  in  placing  her 
household  Lares  and  Penates  in  position  appeared 
in  a  light  cart.  He  looked  relieved  upon  seeing  her 
alive  and  whole,  but  addressed  her  with  a  very 
apologetic  air. 


26  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  I  got  into  hot  water,  I  can  tell  you,  Miss  Judith, 
going  off  an'  leaving  you  the  way  I  did  yesterday," 
he  began,  mopping  his  forehead  with  a  red  handker 
chief.  "Mis'  Birdsall,  she  just  wouldn't  let  me 
hear  the  last  of  it.  Talked  all  the  rest  the  day  an' 
all  night  about  it.  Said  the  idee  of  leaving  you  up 
here  all  alone,  with  a  lot  o'  strange  men  trying  to 
jump  the  land,  for  all  I  knew !  Set  it  all  down  to 
me  an'  Orlando  being  men-folks,  an'  slaves  to  our 
stummicks.  Said  we  thought  more  of  our  mutton 
an'  pertaters  than  we  did  of  human  life.  She  's  a 
warm-hearted  woman,  Mis'  Birdsall  is,  a  pow'ful 
warm-hearted  woman,  an'  she  let  me  have  it  hot  an' 
heavy.  I  '11  own  I  was  a  mite  oneasy  'bout  yeh,  an' 
I  thought  I  'd  come  up  an'  see  how  you  got  along 
with  that  greaser  crowd.  Mis'  Birdsall  'lowed  likely 
as  not  I  'd  find  yeh  murdered  in  your  bed.  Did 
they  cut  up  rough,  now  ?  " 

"  There  was  only  one,"  quoth  Miss  Judith,  busy 
ing  herself  with  the  drapery  she  was  hemming,  while 
a  faint  flush  rose  to  her  cheek. 

"  I  swan !  That  ain't  like  the  race.  They  gen'- 
ally  go  in  swarms." 

"  I  think  he  's  not  a  —  not  the  class  of  men  you 
supposed,  Mr.  Birdsall,"  explained  Miss  Judith  de 
murely.  "  In  fact,  he  talks  very  fair  English.  He 
seems  to  be  an  American." 

"  Tarnation  !  They  're  the  wrist  kind !  "  exclaimed 
the  old  man,  forgetting  that  he  was  condemning  his 
own  race  and  kith  and  kin.  "  A  greaser  makes  a 
big  to-do,  an'  you  'd  think  he  'd  make  war  on  you 
an'  all  your  relations ;  but  you  can  gen'ally  handle 


A  WARRANT  THAT  WAS  NOT  SWORN       27 

him  some  fashion,  if  you  talk  smooth  an'  don't  seem 
to  mind  his  bluster.  A  Yurrupean  can  most  always 
be  bought  off,  if  wust  comes  to  wust.  But  you  get 
an  American  or  an  Englishman  in  a  snarl  over  a 
land  title,  an'  they  '11  law  an'  law  till  they  get  gray- 
headed.  How  'd  he  talk  ?  Anyways  reasonable, 
now?" 

"  No.  He  was  very  unreasonable,"  declared  Miss 
Judith,  with  decision.  "  He  said  he  was  on  the  land 
two  years  ago,  and  prefers  it  to  any  other  place  he 
has  ever  seen,  when  he  knows  there  are  much  better 
tracts  in  this  very  country,  open  to  entry.  Oh,  he  is 
certainly  the  most  unreasonable  person  I  ever  saw." 

"  People  don't  gen'ally  reason  much  when  prop'ty 
rights  is  concerned,"  sagely  observed  the  old  man. 

"And  hard-hearted!  He  even  intimated  it  was 
possible  I  might  die  before  the  land  was  surveyed, 
and  so  remove  all  obstacles  from  his  path,"  she  said 
bitterly. 

"  The  villain !  "  exclaimed  the  old  man,  openly 
alarmed.  "  Why,  child,  your  life  ain't  safe  a  mo 
ment  with  a  man  round  that  talks  that-a-way.  He 
—  he  might  be  up  to  anything,  —  pisen  your  water ! 
run  off  your  stock !  " 

"  Oh,  I  guess  not,"  said  the  girl.  "  You  see,  we 
have  the  very  same  water ;  and  as  for  stock,  I 
have  n't  any,  except  my  hen  and  her  chickens," 
nodding  in  the  direction  of  a  fussy  little  mother-hen 
who  was  diligently  scratching  up  the  sod  before  the 
cabin,  in  a  commendable  effort  to  find  sustenance 
for  her  fluffy  brood,  although  corn  and  wheat  were 
scattered  all  around  her. 


28  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  Well,  you  come  right  hum  with  me,  anyhow," 
insisted  the  old  man.  "  Mis'  Birdsall,  she  '11  make 
you  stay  there  till  this  man  's  out  of  the  way.  I  '11 
swear  out  a  warrant  agin  him  this  very  afternoon." 

"  I  really  am  not  a  particle  afraid  of  him,"  said 
the  girl. 

"  Ain't  you,  now  ?  "  asked  the  old  man,  admir 
ingly.  "  I  says  to  Mis'  Birdsall  last  night,  when  she 
was  carryin'-on  so  'bout  yeh,  I  says,  '  Now  you  look 
heah,  Mis'  Birdsall,  Miss  Judith  's  a  mite  of  a  cree- 
tur,  but  I  '11  guarantee  she  's  a  young  woman  that 
can  take  care  of  herself.'  But  when  it  comes  to  actu 
ally  talking  'bout  yeh  a-dying  off  —  I  nevah  reck 
oned  on  that.  The  cold-blooded  ruffyan !  I  '11  swear 
out  a  warrant  agin  him  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  would  n't,  if  I  were  you,"  protested 
the  young  lady.  "  He  really  does  n't  look  exactly 
murderous.  In  fact,  I  believe  —  I  am  almost  sure 
—  I  was  the  first  one  to  suggest  that  one  of  us  might 
die  or  go  away,  and  so  settle  the  case." 

"  Well,  that  ain't  so  bad,  for  a  fact !  "  The  old 
man  was  appeased,  but  there  was  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye.  "  Maybe  he  's  the  one  that  needs  to  keep  a 
sharp  lookout,  after  all." 

"  Mr.  Birdsall ! "  The  small  person  rebuked  him 
with  great  dignity. 

"  Oh,  no  offense,  no  offense,  Miss  Judith.  I  'm 
not  sayin'  that  you  'd  pisen  his  water  or  run  off  his 
stock,  but  a  woman  can  plague  the  very  life  out  of 
a  man,  if  she  's  a  mind  to,  without  doing  anything 
to  transgress  the  law,  or  so  much  as  fracture  the 
least  little  rule  of  eticat." 


A   WARRANT  THAT  WAS   NOT  SWORN       29 

This  time  there  was  a  look  of  humorous  under 
standing  in  the  eyes  of  both,  as  the  girl  looked  up 
for  one  brief  instant. 

That  night  the  old  man  conveyed  to  his  wife  the 
impression  he  received  in  that  instant,  saying, 
"  Don't  you  worry  any  more  about  Miss  Judith. 
Save  your  pity  for  that  forlorn  young  man  that 's 
come  up  here  a  stranger.  If  she  don't  make  it  hot 
for  him  before  that  entry  question  's  settled,  I  don't 
know  when  the  very  mischief  's  in  a  woman's  eye  ; 
an'  bein'  married  this  thirty  year  I  ought  to  "  — 
But  here  a  stern  "  You,  Samuel ! "  that  he  had 
learned  to  understand  and  respect  during  his  quarter 
century  and  more  of  married  life,  cut  short  his  com 
ments. 

"  Now,  'bout  that  bringing  of  the  water  down  that 
we  was  talking  of  yesterday,"  resumed  the  old  man, 
after  having  fully  absorbed  and  assimilated  this  ex 
pressive  glance  of  the  lady's  ;  "  I  'd  like  to  do  it  for 
yeh,  best  kind,  but  if  I  'm  ever  to  summer-fallow 
that  east  field  of  mine,  now  's  the  time.  An'  that 
boy  Orlando  's  plumb  crazy  to  do  it  for  yeh.  I  don't 
know  what 's  got  into  the  boy.  He  warn't  so  stuck 
on  any  job  of  work  before,  but  he  seems  to  set  his 
heart  on  doin'  this.  Do  you  want  to  sluice  or  pipe 
it?" 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  know  what  a  sluice  is," 
admitted  the  young  lady. 

"  Only  some  boards  tight-jinted,  to  carry  the 
water  down.  They  're  cheaper  an'  easier  to  lay 
than  pipe,  an'  they  don't  clog  or  require  a  dam." 

"  Then  I  '11  have  the  sluice,"  said  Miss  Judith. 


30  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  I  '11  have  the  boards  j'inted  together  at  the  mill, 
an'  Orlando  can  bring  them  up  with  the  big  team. 
It 's  a  plain,  straight-ahead  job.  Only  finding 
a  rest  for  the  sluice,  an'  gettin'  your  level  by  the 
water  flowing  along  it.  Are  you  a  mind  to  trust 
him  with  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly,"  replied  the  young  woman  in 
differently.  "  It  does  n't  matter  in  the  least  who 
does  the  work.  All  I  want  is  the  water." 

Miss  Judith  spoke  with  little  knowledge.  It  would 
matter  very  much  who  did  this  particular  job,  as  she 
was  some  day  to  discover. 

"  The  main  thing  is  to  get  a  good  fall.  He  'd 
better  go  a  thousand  feet  back,  to  make  sure.  He  '11 
have  to  dig  an'  pick  away  the  rock  a  little  to  get 
round  a  couple  o'  pints  above  here,  but  I  reckon 
he  '11  make  out.  It 's  all  down-grade.  No  siphon 
ing.  By  the  way,  what  you  goin'  to  do  for  milk  up 
here  ?  " 

"  I  really  had  n't  thought.  Of  course,  there  's 
condensed  milk.  I  opened  a  can  this  morning  for 
my  coffee  ;  but  I  can't  say  I  relish  it." 

"  Good,  fresh  milk,  an'  plenty  of  it,  is  what  you 
want  to  bring  the  roses  to  them  bleached  city  cheeks," 
said  the  ranchman.  "  It 's  too  far  away  to  go  or 
send,  for  the  sake  of  a  quart  or  two  a  day.  You  've 
got  plenty  of  feed  up  here.  Why  don't  you  keep  a 
cow?" 


CHAPTER  V 

MISS  JUDITH'S  INVESTMENT 

"  I  DON'T  know  the  least  thing  about  one.  I 
have  n't  the  faintest  idea  how  to  milk." 

The  old  man  laughed  indulgently.  "  A  baby  can 
learn.  Orlando  '11  teach  you.  Then  you  '11  have 
plenty  good,  fresh  milk,  an'  butter.  I  ain't  got  any 
stock  to  spare,  but  what  put  it  into  my  head,  my 
neighbor  Montrose,  he  spoke  to  me  about  it  as  I 
was  passing  his  place  this  morning." 

"  And  what  did  he  say?"  eagerly  inquired  Miss 
Judith.  The  more  she  thought  of  it,  the  idea  of 
keeping  .a  cow  appealed  to  her.  Hanging  on  her 
wall  was  an  engraving  of  which  she  was  very  fond, 
and  which  represented  a  group  of  cattle  and  a  pretty 
young  milkmaid.  It  would  be  delightful  to  have 
one  of  the  lovely,  deer-like  creatures  always  grazing 
under  her  oaks. 

"  He  ast  me,"  said  Birdsall,  "  if  the  young  woman 
as  had  taken  up  this  claim  in  the  hills  did  n't  want 
a  cow  ?  Said  he  had  a  nice  two-year-old  heifer  he 
wanted  to  sell,  —  one  he  had  raised  himself.  I  pro 
mised  him  I  'd  speak  to  you." 

"  I  wish  you  'd  ask  him  the  price,  and  send  word 
by  Orlando." 

"  Now,  see  here,  Miss  Judith.  'T  ain't  my  place 
to  advise,  an'  I  ain't  the  man  to  run  down  my  neigh- 


32  THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

bors.  But  don't  you  buy  no  cow  unless  you  exam 
ine  her  yourself,  an'  find  out  all  her  p'ints.  Don't 
you  miss  one  thing.  You  ask  when  she  was  fresh, 
an'  how  much  milk  she  gives,  an'  about  the  cream, 
an'  whether  she  '11  stand  good  to  be  milked,  an' 
milks  easy,  an'  if  she  kicks  the  pail,  an'  what  stock 
she  comes  of,  an'  if  she  's  sound  an'  healthy.  Don't 
you  overlook  a  single  p'int.  You  're  bound  to  get 
taken  in  some  way.  Everybody  mostly  is  that  buys 
a  cow.  Mind,  I  ain't  making  no  reflection  on  Ed 
Montrose,  but  the  man  ain't  living  who  's  got  a  cow 
to  sell,  an'  '11  represent  the  facts  just  as  they  is, 
without  a  mite  of  coloring.  I  tell  you,  a  minister  of 
the  gospel  can't  be  trusted  to  tell  the  truth  about  a 
cow." 

"  Then  I  '11  go  down  and  see  her." 

"  That 's  sensible.  You  take  a  look  at  her  your 
self,  an'  see  what  you  think  of  her.  I  'd  take  you 
down  in  my  buggy,  but  I  can't  bring  you  back  to 
day.  It  'd  be  a  clean  two-mile  walk  up  here  again." 

"Why,  I'll  be  glad  to  go,  Mr.  Birdsall.  The 
walk  will  only  be  a  bit  of  pleasant  exercise.  I  '11 
be  ready  in  five  minutes." 

The  old  man  put  it  down  to  Miss  Judith's  credit 
that  she  was  ready,  properly  cloaked  and  hatted, 
within  the  promised  time.  Indeed,  she  looked  so 
very  dainty  and  pretty  in  her  stylish  check  walking- 
suit  and  broad-brimmed  chip  hat  and  feather,  that 
he  secretly  wished  he  had  put  on  his  Sunday  suit 
that  morning,  and  endeavored  to  spruce  up  surrep 
titiously  by  drawing  a  pocket-comb  through  his 
beard,  under  pretense  of  stroking  it. 


MISS  JUDITH'S  INVESTMENT  33 

The  road  led  through  pleasant  windings  and  easy 
descents  to  the  broad  county  road  below.  The 
Montrose  house  was  a  large,  square  structure,  dis 
creetly  retired  from  the  road  behind  a  tall  evergreen 
hedge,  trimmed  into  rigid  sugar  cones.  Mr.  Mon 
trose,  a  dapper  little  middle-class  Englishman,  in 
corduroy  knee-breeches  and  shooting-coat,  came  up 
from  the  stable  as  he  saw  them  enter  the  gate.  The 
old  man  assisted  the  lady  to  alight,  spoke  the  neces 
sary  words  of  introduction,  and  assuring  Miss  Judith 
that  "Mis'  Birdsall  was  coming  up  to  see  her  as 
soon  as  she  was  settled,"  excused  himself  and  drove 
away.  He  evidently  did  not  intend  to  have  any 
part  in  the  proposed  cattle  deal. 

"  I  understand  you  have  a  cow  to  sell,  Mr.  Mon 
trose,"  said  Miss  Judith. 

"  I  believe  I  did  mention  to  Mr.  Bihdsall  that  I 
had  a  nice  little  heifeh  I  might  dispose  of." 

Mr.  Montrose  spoke  very  deliberately,  in  a  soft, 
low  voice,  and  with  a  slight  drawl.  Indeed,  his 
voice  was  so  very  soft  and  low  at  times  that  Miss 
Judith  had  difficulty  in  understanding  him. 

"  Can  I  see  the  heifer  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Cehtainly.  If  you  '11  kindly  wait  'eah  one  mo 
ment,  I  '11  have  one  of  my  men  bwing  'er  up." 

The  lady  waited  some  time,  declining  the  invita-, 
tion  tendered  by  Mrs.  Montrose,  who  was  very  large 
and  stout,  to  take  a  seat  in  the  house.  But  she  ac 
cepted  from  that  lady's  hands  a  glass  of  sweet, 
creamy  milk,  cool  and  refreshing  after  her  dusty 
ride. 

At  length  Mr.  Montrose  returned,  flushed  with 
exertion,  and  leading  the  heifer  himself. 


34  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

Miss  Judith  scrutinized  the  animal  sharply,  let 
ting  no  detail  escape  her.    It  was  bright  red  in  color, 
with  white  markings  on  either  side  of  its  face,  which 
gave  it  a  fantastic  expression.     It  looked  plump  and 
well  fed,  and  had  a  somewhat  overgrown  look. 
"  How  much  milk  does  she  give  ?  " 
"  I  would  n't  be  positive,"  returned   the   gentle 
man  ;    "  but  I  fancy  she  gives   from  six   to   eight 
quahts  a  day.     Mrs.  Montrose,  have  you  eveh  mea 
sured  Sawah  Ann's  milk  ?  " 

"  No,  Ed,"  replied  Mrs.  Montrose.  "  It 's  always 
brought  in  with  Kitty's,  and  they  're  poured  in  the 
pans  together.  But  she  gives  enough  for  the  lady's 
use.  She's  a  young  thing,  you  see,  Miss  Judith, 
and  not  come  to  her  full  milking  yet." 

"  Is  she  pure  Jersey  ?  "  Miss  Judith  persevered, 
while  Mrs.  Montrose  returned  to  her  household 
cares. 

The  Englishman  contemptuously  snipped  off  the 
heads  of  a  row  of  weeds  with  a  little  stick  he  carried. 

"  My  deah  madam !  No  Jehsey  for  me !  She  's 
a  cross  between  Devonshiah  and  Du'am.  The  vewy 
finest  stwain  in  the  country.  Jehsey  can't  compah 
with  it." 

"  Is  she  an  easy  milker  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  easy,  madam." 

"  And  she 's  gentle  ?  " 

"  Gentle  as  a  dog,  Miss  Judith.  I  always  make 
it  a  point  to  bring  up  my  stock  by  hand.  It  makes 
them  almost  'uman.  They  know  me  better  than 
their  own  mothers." 

"  She  looks  kind,"  said  the  girl,  putting  out  her 


MISS  JUDITH'S  INVESTMENT  35 

hand  in  response  to  what  seemed  to  her  a  beseeching 
look  in  the  heifer's  eye,  but  quickly  withdrawing  it 
as  a  misgiving  seized  her. 

"  Does  she  bite  ?  " 

"  Nevah,  madam !  "  Mr.  Montrose  had  his  at 
tention  distracted  at  this  moment  by  a  noise  in  his 
stable-yard,  and  turned  his  head  to  investigate  it. 
When  he  faced  Miss  Judith  again,  he  was  sober  as 
a  judge. 

"  Madam,  I  assuah  you,  I  would  n't  keep  a  cow 
on  my  place  that  would  bite.  There  is  n't  one  in 
my  'erd  that  I  would  n't  guahantee  not  to  bite." 

This  sounded  very  honest  and  promising.  The 
young  lady  stroked  the  heifer's  nose.  The  animal 
licked  her  hand,  and  she  conceived  an  affection  for 
it  on  the  spot.  She  tried  to  recall  the  remainder  of 
Mr.  Birdsall's  cautions. 

"  She  has  nice,  clean,  long  limbs,"  she  remarked. 
"  She  looks  as  if  she  could  run  fast." 

"Yes,  ma'am.  She  comes  of  the  best  racing- 
stock  in  the  country." 

"  And  her  back  has  such  pretty  lines." 

"  People  who  know  what 's  what  in  cattle,"  said 
Mr.  Montrose,  dropping  his  voice  to  a  mysterious 
whisper,  "  always  look  for  that  nice  arched  back, 
when  they  're  after  a  fine  milch  cow." 

This  settled  it  for  Miss  Judith.  She  had  not 
only  been  reassured  on  all  the  points  the  old  ranch 
man  had  cautioned  her  about,  but  she  had  discov 
ered  other  admirable  features  which  he  had  not  so 
much  as  named.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
ask  the  price.  The  sum  the  Englishman  named 


36  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

seemed  even  to  her  inexperience  somewhat  ex 
cessive. 

"  If  you  '11  just  figgah  it  up  this  way,"  said  the 
Englishman,  softly,  "  I  don't  think  you  '11  consideh 
it  at  all  exhorbitant.  Fihst,  you  get  you'  milk,  say 
seven  quahts  a  day,  two  hundred  and  ten  quahts  a 
month.  At  eight  cents  a  quaht  that 's  sixteen  dol- 
lahs  and  eighty  cents.  Then  you'  butteh,  say  two 
rolls  a  week ;  choice  table  butteh 's  six  bits  a  roll. 
That 's  six  dollahs.  Twenty-two  dollahs  and  eighty 
cents  a  month.  Neahly  three  hundred  dollahs  a 
year.  Miss  Judith,  if  I  asked  you  a  hundwed  dol 
lahs  for  that  heif eh,  you  'd  still  be  making  more 
than  two  hundwed  peh  cent,  a  year  on  your  invest 
ment  after  deducting  the  cost  of  foddeh." 

This  was  such  a  very  moderate  and  rational  way 
of  looking  at  the  matter  that  the  lady  felt  quite 
ashamed  of  having  for  one  instant  caviled  at  the 
price  of  so  great  a  treasure.  She  paid  the  price  on 
the  spot,  with  a  mild  apology,  and  arranged  to  have 
Orlando  bring  the  heifer  when  he  should  come  up 
to  work  on  the  sluice  the  following  week. 


CHAPTER  VI 

UNDER   SIEGE 

ONE  evening,  a  few  days  later,  Miss  Judith,  sit 
ting  on  the  threshold  of  her  cottage,  looked  away 
from  the  book  she  was  reading  to  see  the  sun  set 
ting  in  a  glory  of  pellucid  rose  and  crimson,  trans 
figuring  the  distant  valley,  robing  the  mountains  in 
splendor,  and  reflecting  its  dazzling  light  in  the 
western  sea.  Wrapped  in  her  thoughts,  she  did  not 
at  first  observe  that  the  scene  had  another  specta 
tor.  Under  a  tree  some  rods  distant  a  man  stood, 
apparently  absorbing  the  picture. 

When  he  saw  that  he  was  observed,  he  came 
directly  to  her. 

"You  must  admit  that  I  have  chosen  the  best 
location  for  my  dwelling,"  she  said.  "You  have 
not  the  sunshine,  the  freedom,  the  broad  and  beauti 
ful  view  of  the  uplands." 

"  I  did  not  come  here  for  views,"  said  Mr.  Paul, 
with  sarcastic  emphasis.  "  I  came  here  for  a  wholly 
different  purpose  than  sitting  down  and  enjoying 
the  landscape." 

Miss  Judith  put  the  young  man  down  in  her  men 
tal  inventory  as  wholly  lacking  in  sentiment  and 
ideality. 

"  And  that  purpose  is  ?  " 

"  Farming,  naturally.     I  have  the  seclusion  of  the 


38  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

canon,  the  music  of  the  stream.  Besides,  the  land 
in  there  is  infinitely  superior  to  this.  You  could  n't 
raise  onions  and  cabbages  here  to  save  your  life." 

"  Oh !  Onions  and  cabbages ! "  returned  the  girl 
scornfully. 

"Cabbages  and  onions  are  more  profitable  than 
charming  views,  and  oak-trees,  and  wild  flowers. 
You  are  plainly  no  farmer,  Miss  Judith." 

She  resented  this  imputation  with  asperity. 

"There  are  farmers,  and  farmers.  One  can  al 
ways  choose.  I  am  going  to  raise  strawberries,  and 
raspberries,  and  blackberries." 

The  young  man  groaned  in  spirit.  His  theory 
that  the  young  woman's  invasion  of  the  primeval 
hills  was  due  to  some  passing  whim  fell  to  the 
ground. 

"  You  '11  break  your  back  over  the  one,  and 
scratch  your  hands  to  pieces  with  the  other,"  he  re 
torted.  "And  as  for  blackberries,  only  stroll  up 
the  banks  of  my  stream  in  early  June,  and  I  '11 
show  you  wild  berries  that  in  flavor  will  discount 
any  cultivated  fruit  ever  offered  in  the  market.  My 
friend  the  surveyor  and  I  nearly  lived  on  them  when 
we  were  up  here  two  years  ago." 

"  Your  stream !  "  she  repeated,  with  a  little  satiri 
cal  emphasis  upon  the  possessive  pronoun.  "  It  is 
upon  your  stream  that  I  shall  rely  to  irrigate  my 
berries.  A  man  is  coming  to  pipe  the  water  down 
next  week." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  there  is  abundance  of  water  for 
both  our  uses,"  he  returned  indifferently.  "  Can  I 
be  of  any  further  assistance  to  you  this  evening, 
Miss  Judith  ?  "  he  added  pleasantly. 


UNDER  SIEGE  39 

"  Thank  you.  I  think  not.  But  I  am  forgetting 
my  province  as  hostess,  sir.  Won't  you  come  into 
my  house  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  compromising  my  rights  by 
entering  the  abode  of  mine  enemy,"  he  said  whim 
sically,  but  he  obediently  followed  as  she  led  the 
way  into  the  cottage. 

It  was  impossible  not  to  marvel  over  the  magical 
little  home  that  a  woman's  ingenuity  and  taste  had 
created  in  one  short  day.  There  were  but  two 
rooms,  the  sleeping  apartment  being  divided  from 
the  living-room  by  dull  rose  curtains,  toning  with 
the  pale  terra-cotta  of  the  walls.  Each  side  of  the 
larger  apartment  was  fitted  with  a  square,  project 
ing  window.  Grayish-blue  denim  curtains,  figured 
with  white  dragons,  were  looped  back  above  these, 
and  the  broad  window-seats  were  converted  into 
couches,  with  Japanese  rugs  and  a  profusion  of  pil 
lows.  A  little  bookcase,  with  faded  rose  curtains, 
stood  beside  one  of  these  alcoves;  a  couple  of 
easy-chairs  and  a  rattan  rocker  were  conveniently 
distributed,  and  a  tiny  drop-leaf  table  of  polished 
mahogany  stood  near  a  small  antique  dresser,  where 
a  few  pieces  of  dainty  china  were  ranged  behind 
glass  doors.  In  one  corner  of  the  room  a  flowered 
screen  stood  guard. 

"  My  kitchen  !  "  explained  Miss  Judith,  swinging 
the  screen  about  and  disclosing  a  trim  little  gasoline 
range  and  kitchen  table  and  cupboard,  while  a  small 
square  door  in  the  wall  gave  access  to  a  wire  safe 
attached  to  the  wall  outside. 

"It  is   all  very  pretty,  very  comfortable,  very 


40  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

tasteful,"  commented  the  visitor.  "  It  has  but  one 
drawback." 

"  And  that  is  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  a  house  at  all.  It  is  a  toy.  Only  see 
how  it  shakes  when  I  walk  across  the  floor." 

He  took  a  few  heavy  steps,  and  the  light  structure 
rocked  at  each  movement,  to  the  owner's  manifest 
trepidation. 

"  Oh,  don't !  Please  don't.  It  is  n't  necessary 
to  step  so  hard !  "  she  pleaded. 

"When  I  get  my  house  built,  Miss  Judith,  you 
can  step  as  hard  as  you  please  on  the  floor.  I  pre 
dict  that  this  will  go  over  in  the  first  high  wind," 
he  grimly  added. 

"  In  this  windless  climate  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  precisely  in  a  cyclone  belt.  But  wait 
until  some  night  when  the  trades  contrive  to  slip  in 
between  yonder  mesa  and  the  mountain  range,  and 
come  sweeping  down  the  coast  valley.  Perhaps  you 
may  be  moved  across  the  gulch,  seeking  a  location 
near  mine,  without  any  effort  of  your  own." 

Again  Miss  Judith  mentally  accredited  Mr.  Paul 
with  a  gift  for  saying  very  disagreeable  things. 

Aloud  she  remarked :  — 

"  I  perceive  you  are  an  optimist." 

Mr.  Paul  disclaimed  this  caustic  little  compli 
ment. 

"  No.  Only  a  philosopher,  after  a  lame  and  halt 
ing  fashion.  It  is  always  well  to  face  the  inevitable, 
and  to  prepare  for  emergencies.  When  I  go  on  a 
journey,  I  take  an  accident  insurance  ticket.  Under 
such  circumstances  as  these  I  would  counsel  you  " — 


UNDER  SIEGE  41 

He  broke  off,  lifting  his  eyes  to  inspect  the  roof  of 
the  slight  structure,  and  evidently  taking  the  mea 
sure  of  its  resistance. 

"  You  would  advise  me  —  What  ?  I  am  wait- 
ing." 

"  As  we  cannot  tell  exactly  when  the  calamity  will 
come,  it  would  be  better  to  take  out  a  life  policy. 
The  premiums  are  more  reasonable." 

"  I  can  dig  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  retire  into 
my  cave  when  the  wind  begins  to  blow,  like  the  resi 
dents  of  the  Western  prairies." 

"  But  what  will  you  live  in  when  you  come  out  ?  " 

"  A  mere  shelter  is  easy  to  devise.  Wiser  than  I 
have  lived  —  in  a  tub  !  " 

Mr.  Paul  held  out  his  hand,  smiling. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  hint  of  hesitation  in  the  girl's  man 
ner.  Then  a  small  hand  fluttered  into  his  waiting 
palm,  the  shy  eyes  were  upraised  to  his  with  an  im 
pulse  of  friendliness,  and  the  voice  that  echoed  his 
farewell  took  on  a  tone  of  neighborly  kindliness. 

Before  she  retired  to  her  couch  that  night,  Miss 
Judith  tried  the  experiment  of  crossing  the  floor  of 
her  dwelling  with  a  heavy  stride,  as  Mr.  Paul  had 
done.  She  even  stamped  on  the  floor ;  but  the  little 
cottage  stood  as  firmly  as  a  rock.  Satisfied  with  this 
crucial  test,  she  retired  to  rest,  wondering  why  Mr. 
Paul  would  persist  in  making  such  needless  and 
absurd  predictions. 

Notwithstanding  the  courteous  attitude  which 
they  assumed  toward  each  other,  each  of  these 
young  people  was  firm  in  the  resolve  to  defeat  the 


42  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

purpose  of  the  rival  claimant.  As  the  man  slowly 
walked  home  that  night,  he  pondered  the  situation. 

"  Of  course,  it 's  perfectly  absurd  for  a  woman  to 
undertake  to  be  a  farmer,"  he  reflected,  "  and  it 's 
really  nothing  but  an  act  of  kindness  to  help  her  out 
of  her  mistake  as  soon  as  possible.  Amateur  farm 
ing  is  a  disease,  and  it  has  to  run  its  course.  No 
amount  of  well-meant  advice  will  ever  check  it. 
The  rational  mode  of  treatment  is  on  the  homeo 
pathic  plan.  I  '11  take  her  up  an  armful  of  those 
pretty  illustrated  catalogues  the  Eastern  seed-houses 
are  perpetually  sending  out.  And  I  '11  see  if  I 
can't  find  some  old  numbers  of  a  Poultry  Journal 
and  the  Live-Stock  Breeder.  It 's  better  for  her  to 
have  the  whole  thing  at  once.  When  a  man  or 
woman  takes  it  by  degrees,  tries  vegetables  this  year 
and  fodder  plants  the  next,  and  berries  and  flowers 
and  orchard  trees,  and  rare  plants  from  the  Ori 
ent,  one  after  another,  the  malady  keeps  up,  and 
sometimes  strikes  in  in  a  chronic  form,  and  lasts  for 
a  lifetime.  If  I  don't  mistake  this  Miss  Judith's 
temperament,  she  's  the  type  that  will  take  the  whole 
thing  at  once,  in  a  healthful  form,  and  be  exempt 
from  it  forever  afterwards." 

Miss  Judith's  reflections  were  none  the  less  vigor 
ous  and  to  the  point ;  and,  although  her  plan  of  ac 
tion  might  not  have  been  quite  so  well  systematized 
as  Mr.  Paul's,  it  was  no  less  clear  in  her  own  mind. 

Her  dreams  were  troubled  that  night.  She  thought 
that  she  was  out  at  sea  in  a  boat,  and  that  a  storm 
burst  upon  her.  The  waves  dashed  mountain  high, 
and  her  frail  craft  tossed  helplessly  about  under  full 


UNDER  SIEGE  43 

canvas.  Other  boats  passed  by,  but  they  would  not 
heed  her  pleading  cries.  On  the  deck  of  one  staunch 
little  sloop  she  discerned  Mr.  Paul  standing,  and  she 
cried  out  to  him  to  lay  by ;  but  he  only  smiled  mock 
ingly,  and  lowered  a  net  over  the  side  of  his  boat, 
and  held  it  in  his  hands,  and  she  understood  that 
when  the  wind  and  waves  should  have  done  their 
work,  he  meant  to  recover  her  body.  After  a  long 
delay,  her  recreant  crew  came  up  from  the  hold 
where  they  had  been  hiding,  and  lazily  began  to  reef 
the  sails,  to  a  great  creaking  of  ropes,  clanking  of 
iron,  and  rattling  of  blocks  and  cables.  The  vessel 
pitched  less  violently,  and  gradually  calmed  down, 
and  rode  the  sea  like  a  bird.  But  the  strange  clamor 
continued,  rising  to  a  deafening  din,  that  aroused 
her  from  her  deep  sleep. 

She  sat  up,  and  looked  around  her  for  the  familiar 
belongings  of  the  little  cottage.  The  gray  light  of 
dawn  was  in  her  room,  and  a  cool  blast  shrieked 
through  a  shutter  which  was  open  above  her  head. 
The  deafening  roar  of  artillery  sounded  around  her, 
occasionally  varied  by  a  shrill  whirring  and  jangling, 
and  a  scraping  against  her  outer  walls.  The  fierce 
bay  of  the  mastiff,  apparently  rising  from  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  proved  that  something  strange  and 
unusual  was  going  on.  Had  some  invading  army 
passed  the  populous  valley,  to  lay  siege  to  her  tiny 
dwelling  ? 

She  made  a  hasty  toilet,  thrust  her  feet  into  a 
pair  of  small  knit  slippers,  and  essayed  to  make  her 
way  to  the  door.  This  was  a  difficult  feat,  for  the 
floor  was  tilted  from  its  proper  level,  and  the  wind 


44  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

appeared  to  come  from  all  points  of  the  compass 
through  her  open  casements.  She  found  it  necessary 
to  pursue  a  roundabout  course,  steadying  herself 
by  grasping  various  articles  firmly  affixed  to  the 
wall. 

Her  eyes  were  still  dazed  with  sleep,  but  she  was 
dimly  aware  of  a  peculiar  disorder  in  the  room. 
Only  the  locked  doors  of  her  dresser  prevented  the 
china,  which  had  all  slid  to  the  front  of  the  shelves, 
from  falling  to  the  floor.  Under  her  feet  were  the 
fragments  of  a  glass  jar  she  had  left  on  the  table 
the  night  before,  holding  a  branch  of  wild  roses.  As 
she  at  last  succeeded  in  gaining  the  opposite  side  of 
the  room,  the  frail  structure  gave  one  final  lunge. 
Again  she  heard  the  thunderous  din  outside,  but 
with  this  final  reel  and  bump,  as  if  first  tossed  on 
the  crest  of  a  wave  and  then  plunged  in  the  trough 
of  the  sea,  the  building  appeared  to  come  to  a  stand. 
With  trembling  fingers  the  girl  slid  back  the  bolt 
and  opened  the  door. 

It  would  not  have  surprised  Miss  Judith  in  the 
least  to  have  found  a  wild  waste  of  blue  waters  foam 
ing  and  churning  about  her.  It  did  surprise  her 
very  much  to  find  her  doorway  completely  obstructed 
with  a  leafy  barricade.  She  felt  like  the  maiden  in 
the  fairy  tale,  about  whose  abode  the  enchanted  for 
est  springs  up  in  a  single  night.  While  she  stood, 
uncertain  and  bewildered,  she  was  startled  by  seeing 
a  man's  face  through  the  screen  of  foliage,  and  a 
voice  anxiously  called  her  name. 

"  Miss  Judith !  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  faintly.     For  the  moment  it 


UNDER  SIEGE  45 

was  grateful  to  feel  the  nearness  of  a  human  being, 
albeit  that  person  was  her  enemy. 

"  Are  you  alive  ?  " 

To  this  very  superfluous  question  Miss  Judith 
returned  a  scornful  response. 

"  Of  course  I  am." 

Mr.  Paul  seemed  short  of  breath,  like  one  who  has 
been  undertaking  some  herculean  exertion.  Rank 
suspicion  rose  in  the  lady's  mind. 

"  Mr.  Paul,  what  have  you  been  doing  to  my 
house  ?  " 

"  Merely  staying  it  in  place,  that  it  may  ride  out 
the  gale,"  responded  that  gentleman  coolly,  although 
she  could  see  that  he  was  mopping  his  forehead  with 
his  handkerchief. 

"But  how  dare  you  close  up  my  door  in  this 
way  ?  "  demanded  his  small  antagonist,  viewing  him 
with  wrathful  intent.  She  followed  the  challenge 
with  a  faint  cry  of  terror,  as  the  floor  again  rose 
beneath  her  feet,  so  that  she  only  saved  herself  from 
falling  by  catching  hold  of  the  door,  which  swung 
back  on  its  hinges. 

"  Just  wait  till  I  take  an  extra  turn  of  the  wire 
around  that  end,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Paul,  and  to  her 
surprise  he  disappeared  skyward,  and  she  heard  light 
touches  along  her  roof,  followed  by  a  renewed  jan 
gling  and  clamor,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  small 
dwelling  seemed  to  gradually  right  itself. 

Feeling  herself  once  more  on  a  firm  foundation, 
Miss  Judith  brought  all  her  pigmy  strength  to  move 
aside  a  great  bough  which  was  thrust  across  her  en 
trance.  To  her  surprise  it  proved  unyielding.  Fait 


46  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

ing  in  her  attempt  to  remove  this  obstacle,  she  parted 
the  lighter  branches  with  her  hands  and  peered 
through  them.  In  a  direct  line  with  her  eyes,  and 
not  half  a  dozen  feet  away,  was  a  large  nest,  clum 
sily  built  of  twigs,  from  which  four  little  bald  heads 
with  yawning  mouths  were  stretched. 

The  girl  rubbed  her  eyes  in  mystification. 

Again  the  legend  of  the  forest  occurred  to  her. 
Or  had  she,  herself,  been  in  some  enchanted  sleep  ? 
How  else  could  great  living  boughs  interlace  before 
her  door,  and  birds  build  their  nest  and  rear  their 
young  within  them  ?  From  the  greedy  little  mouths 
her  gaze  traveled  downwards,  and  she  could  scarce 
repress  a  scream  of  horror  at  seeing  the  ground  some 
twenty  feet  below  her. 

She  was  not  slow  to  grasp  what  had  actually  oc 
curred.  The  high  wind,  rising  almost  to  a  tempest 
at  daybreak,  taking  advantage  of  the  broad  eaves  of 
the  tiny  habitation  and  surging  through  her  open 
casements,  had  lifted  the  light  structure  as  if  it  had 
been  a  box  kite,  and  carried  it  into  the  great  oak- 
tree  that  stood  near  by,  where  it  had  been  wedged 
fast  among  the  branches. 

Her  neighbor  again  made  his  appearance,  this  time 
beside  the  open  window.  She  saw  now  that  he  carried 
a  coil  of  wire  on  his  arm,  and  a  hatchet  in  his  hand. 

"  The  wind  was  so  high  that  I  really  felt  uneasy 
about  you,"  he  explained  apologetically.  "It  oc 
curred  to  me  that  it  would  n't  be  a  bad  plan  to  wire 
the  house  down  to  the  ground,  as  they  do  in  tropical 
countries  where  they  build  more  solid  structures,  but 
where  hurricanes  abound.  I  reached  here  just  two 


UNDER  SIEGE  47 

minutes  too  late.  You  moved  a  little  earlier  than  I 
anticipated,  Miss  Judith.  But  permit  me  to  con 
gratulate  you  on  your  safe  transit." 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  very  thankful  to  you," 
remarked  the  lady,  comprehending  the  service  that 
he  had  rendered,  and  awarding  him  a  doubtful  grati 
tude. 

"  Oh,  not  at  all.  There  's  no  occasion  whatever !  " 
declared  her  neighbor,  deprecating  her  gratitude. 
"  As  I  understand  the  law,  every  improvement  made 
on  my  land,  and  not  covered  by  special  contract, 
belongs  to  me.  If  I  had  n't  reached  here  just  in 
time,  you  see  you  might  have  moved  over  on  the 
next  section." 

"This  is  preposterous,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  her 
spirit  returning.  "  If  this  were  true,  then  it  would 
simply  mean  that  you  are  adding  to  my  possessions 
with  your  building  up  the  gulch." 

Mr.  Paul  paid  no  attention  to  this  feminine  out 
burst,  but  went  on  as  calmly  and  steadily  as  he  could 
in  the  teeth  of  the  gale :  — 

"  You  see,  you  put  up  this  house  without  making 
any  contract  whatever  with  me,  and  that  makes  it 
my  legal  property.  In  securing  it  against  further 
pilgrimages,  I  am  merely  looking  out  for  my  own 
interests.  Fortunately,  in  making  your  ascent  you 
chose  a  side  of  the  oak  where  the  large  branches 
parted  sufficiently  to  give  almost  free  passage,  and 
the  lighter  twigs  snapped  off  or  were  pushed  aside. 
I  see  there  is  a  bit  of  the  cornice  missing,  however, 
and  the  roof  is  somewhat  battered,  but  a  bit  of  card 
board  and  a  pot  of  paste  will  make  that  all  right." 


48  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

Miss  Judith  was  plainly  offended  at  this  light 
assessment  of  damages  her  domicile  had  suffered, 
as  well  as  at  the  insidious  reflection  upon  its  light 
structure. 

"  I  shall  have  Mr.  Birdsall  up  to  make  what  re 
pairs  are  necessary,  as  well  as  to  put  it  in  its  proper 
place  again,"  she  said  stiffly. 

"I  trust  you  don't  think  of  having  it  taken 
down,"  Mr.  Paul  exclaimed,  genuinely  disapproving 
and  disappointed.  "By  nailing  a  step  here  and  there, 
you  can  have  the  most  delightful  winding  staircase, 
finished  with  a  step  or  two  at  the  bottom.  And 
you  must  excuse  me  for  suggesting,  Miss  Judith, 
that  while  the  little  dwelling  was  —  well,  not  exactly 
a  conspicuous  feature  of  the  landscape  down  on  the 
broad  mesa,  in  its  new  location  up  in  the  clouds  it  is 
really  quite  a  stately  mansion.  You  can  live  here, 
secure  from  tramps  and  four-footed  marauders,  like 
a  — like  a"- 

"  Like  a  bird  in  a  tree  ! "  completing  his  simile 
with  a  curl  of  her  little  scarlet  lip.  "  Thank  you, 
sir,  for  your  very  poetical  suggestion,  but  I  happen 
to  be  a  very  practical  person,  and  the  idea  is  not  at 
all  to  my  taste." 

The  young  man  accepted  this  withering  rebuke  in 
good  part,  and  retired  from  the  scene. 

When  farmer  Birdsall  heard  of  the  strange  flight 
undertaken  by  the  paper  cottage,  he  hastened  to  the 
scene  and  listened  gravely  to  the  little  lady's  instruc 
tions,  but  deliberately  reconnoitred  the  situation 
from  every  possible  point  of  view  before  opening 
his  mouth  to  reply. 


UNDER  SIEGE  49 

"  Now,  Miss  Judith,"  he  protested,  "  you  take  my 
advice,  and  don't  you  fly  in  the  face  of  Providence, 
which  it  has  lodged  your  paper  house  in  the  very 
identical  place  best  fitted  to  it.  Great  Scott,  if  it 
doesn't  look  for  all  the  world  like  a  nice,  trim 
pigeon-cote  up  thar,  with  all  the  latest  improve 
ments  ! " 

"Mr.  Birdsall,  I  am  the  best  judge  of  where  I 
want  my  house,"  replied  the  lady,  with  much  dig 
nity.  "  I  prefer  to  live  on  the  ground,  like  other 
people." 

"  But,  child,  how  you  goin'  to  get  it  down  from 
thar?  The'  ain't  enough  jackscrews  in  the  valley 
to  mount  under  it,  an'  when  you  get  up  to  it,  how 's 
a  man  going  to  get  it  apart,  or  find  a  place  to  stand 
while  he  's  lowering  it  ?  If  I  could  rig  a  scaffolding 
up  in  the  clouds,  now,  it  would  be  an  easy  matter." 

"  The  house  must  come  down,"  said  the  girl 
firmly. 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  're  set  on  it,  I  s'pose  it  must," 
conceded  the  old  man.  "  Of  course  the  oak  '11  have 
to  come  down  with  it." 

"  But  I  want  the  oak  just  where  it  is.  It 's  my 
very  largest  and  finest  oak.  I  would  n't  part  with 
it  for  the  world !  " 

"But  it  can't  be  done  without  hacking  it  into 
slivers.  Don't  ye  see  that  when  the  wind  hefted  you 
up  an'  toted  you  thar,  only  them  big  branches  that 
make  the  crown  of  the  tree  kept  you  from  sailing 
for  kingdom  come  ?  You  brought  up  agin  them,  an' 
then  the  whole  concern  must  have  fluttered  there, 
trying  to  get  away,  an'  skewed  around  till  it  settled 


50  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

cornerwise:  this  near  part  over  here  wedged  in 
between  the  main  trunk  an'  that  big  limb ;  an'  the 
far  corner  ground  itself  in  like  it  was  mortised  in 
the  crotch  back  there ;  an'  that  man  Paul  has  wired 
it  good  an'  fast.  Come  round  this  side  an'  see  for 
yourself.  You  can't  unhook  one  of  them  roof  sec 
tions  no  way  without  lopping  off  all  the  top  branches  ; 
an'  you  can't  get  the  sides  apart  or  off  the  floor  till 
you  've  cut  off  the  trunk  at  that  p'int,  an'  the  mo 
ment  you  've  done  that,  the  whole  house  's  loose,  an' 
liable  to  smash  down  before  you  can  stop  it." 

"  But  it 's  so  ridiculous  to  take  up  one's  residence 
in  a  tree !  "  cried  the  little  woman,  who  could  have 
wept  from  vexation  at  discovering  that  she  would 
be  compelled  to  accept  Mr.  Paul's  advice. 

"  Don't  you  fret  about  that ! "  said  the  good  old 
farmer,  in  a  sorry  effort  at  consolation.  "  It  might 
be  for  a  big  man,  or  even  for  a  full-sized  woman,  but 
for  a  little  body  like  you,  with  no  family,  an'  a 
paper  house,  it 's  a  grand  idee !  I  see  this  end  here 
is  a  leetle  out  o'  plumb,  an'  you  just  let  me  get  my 
spirit-level  an'  put  a  sycamore  limb  across  them 
two  branches,  an'  make  you  a  front  doorstep  an' 
a  bit  of  a  railing  about  it,  an'  I  '11  have  you  all 
shipshape  in  less  'n  two  hours." 


CHAPTER  VII 

A   WILLFUL   WOMAN 

AFTER  a  two  days'  blow  the  wind  abated,  and 
was  succeeded  by  a  sky  so  serene  and  an  atmosphere 
so  reposeful  as  to  efface  all  recollection  of  the 
weather's  unseemly  prank.  A  few  days  later  Miss 
Judith,  who  began  to  feel  quite  at  home  in  her  little 
eyrie,  was  summoned  to  her  door,  to  find  the  lank 
Orlando  gazing  in  admiration  upon  her  lofty  resi 
dence. 

"  Beats  Ja-Ja-Jack's  Beanstalk  all  hollow  now, 
Miss  Judith.  Found  the  ogre  up  there  ?  " 

"No,  Orlando.  My  ogres  are  down  on  the 
earth." 

The  boy's  attention  was  drawn  to  the  meshwork 
of  stout  wire  with  which  Mr.  Paul  had  secured  the 
dwelling  to  the  ground  and  tree. 

"  Wha-what  's  that  ?    Bur-bur-burglar  trap  ?  " 

"  The  very  latest  patent,  Orlando." 

"  Got  a  bell  on  the  end  of  each  one  ?  " 

"  That  is  n't  necessary.  The  wire  itself  sounds  a 
loud  enough  alarm.  Try  it." 

The  lad  complied,  and  the  loud  whirr  of  the  wire 
made  good  her  assurance.  His  face  beamed. 

"  You  '11  have  him  slick,  if  he  comes  prowling 
round  here  at  night." 

The  young  lady  began  to  understand  the  trend  of 


52  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

the  youth's  inquiries.  To  her  shame  be  it  said, 
she  permitted  Orlando  to  believe  that  the  wires  were 
designed  to  entrap  the  man  who  had  so  considerately 
placed  them  there.  Orlando  had  a  fresh  inspira 
tion. 

"  Miss  Judith,  I  '11  te-tell  you  what !  I  got  a 
b-b-bear-trap  to  home.  I  '11  fetch  it  up  and  put  it 
by  the  tree.  If  he  ge-gets  that  far,  it  '11  cat-catch 
him  by  the  leg." 

"I  think  this  will  be  sufficient,  Orlando.  But 
I  '11  remember  the  bear-trap,  in  case  I  need  it.  Is 
that  the  sluice  you  have  in  the  wagon  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am.  Part  of  it.  And  I  g-got  a  sp- 
spade  and  a  p-pick,  —  weapons  of  warfare,  Miss 
Judith.  I'll  do  him  up.  Strat-strat-egy  is  better 
than  powder  and  shot,  you  know." 

The  lady  was  at  a  loss  to  interpret  the  look  of 
owlish  wisdom  that  accompanied  this  pledge,  but  set 
it  down  to  the  youth's  highly  imaginative  tempera 
ment,  and  the  novel  he  had  taken  with  his  breakfast 
that  morning.  Her  attention  was  at  this  moment 
distracted  from  him  by  an  imperative  low  from  be 
hind  the  great  wagon,  and  the  sight  of  a  couple  of 
long  horns  and  a  streaked  white  face  looking  mourn 
fully  around  the  hind  wheel. 

"  She 's  a  great  one,  is  3airy  Ann ! "  testified 
Orlando.  "  Could  n't  come  half  fast  enough  up  the 
moun-mountain  to  suit  her.  She's  been  ducking 
under  and  bump-bumping  into  the  wagon  all  the 
way.  Wh-where  '11  you  have  her  staked  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  would  be  the  best  place? " 

"  There  's  nothing  for  her  to  eat  up  here.     That 


A  WILLFUL  WOMAN  53 

fo-f oxtail 's  no  good  for  cows.  There  's  mi-mighty 
good  feeding  on  the  fl-flat,  below  the  house." 

The  young  lady  resigned  the  pastoral  possibilities 
of  a  heifer  on  her  lawn  the  more  readily  as  she  be 
came  convinced,  on  a  second  inspection,  that  Sairy 
Ann  was  not  as  picturesque  as  the  cattle  in  her  pic 
ture.  It  was  a  decided  advantage  to  her,  in  her  new 
role  as  a  dairymaid,  to  have  this  country  boy  on 
hand  to  initiate  her  into  the  mysteries  of  milking, 
setting  cream,  skimming,  and  churning.  She  found 
it  to  be  an  even  greater  advantage,  as  the  days  went 
on,  to  have  the  aid  of  Orlando's  long  legs  to  pursue 
the  enterprising  Sairy  Ann,  who  was  constantly 
seeking  green  fields  and  pastures  new,  and  who  soon 
displayed  a  very  restless  disposition  and  great  skill 
in  untying  her  picket  rope,  developing  prowess  as  a 
sprinter,  and  leading  the  youth  many  a  weary  chase 
up  the  hillside  or  down  the  canon. 

Meantime  the  cabin  across  the  gulch,  taking  form 
more  slowly  and  solidly  than  the  paper  house,  was 
finally  completed.  Miss  Judith,  who  only  beheld  it 
from  afar,  finding  constant  excuse  to  decline  the 
owner's  pressing  invitation  to  take  a  nearer  view, 
could  not  but  acknowledge  its  picturesque  simpli 
city.  Laid  of  rough-hewn  logs,  with  a  generous 
adobe  chimney  swelling  out,  bell-shape,  at  one  end, 
and  with  a  broad  porch  finished  with  a  rustic  bal 
cony  woven  of  rich-hued  manzanita  shrubs  from 
the  surrounding  hills,  it  had  a  singularly  substantial 
and  home-like  aspect,  as  of  a  dwelling  long  since 
erected,  and  grown  into  complete  harmony  with  its 
surroundings. 


54  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

Mr.  Paul  was  certainly  very  obliging  in  these 
days.  He  overwhelmed  the  lady  with  lovely  picto 
rial  catalogues  of  all  the  seed-houses  and  nurseries 
on  the  American  continent,  tempting  and  delusive 
little  periodicals,  which  set  forth  the  virtues  and 
superiorities  of  all  manner  of  vegetables  and  fruits 
and  flowers  in  the  most  alluring  guise,  and  be 
witched  the  little  woman  into  sending  order  upon 
order,  until  her  bank  account  stood  dangerously 
near  zero,  and  she  realized  that  she  had  undertaken 
gardening  on  a  scale  which  would  have  kept  a  dozen 
pairs  of  hands  busily  employed.  Nor  were  her  ven 
tures  confined  to  the  plant  world  alone.  She  in 
vested  in  a  coop  of  guinea  fowl,  which  disturbed 
her  rest  at  daylight  with  their  discordant  cries  ;  and 
she  imported  a  trio  of  snow-white  turkeys,  whose 
plumage  proved  so  shining  a  mark  by  night  for  the 
coyotes  that  a  solitary  hen-turkey  was  soon  the  sole 
survivor  of  the  once  happy  family,  wandering 
through  chaparral  and  gulches  like  a  forlorn  spirit, 
or  patiently  sitting  on  nests  of  eggs  in  the  greaser 
grass,  coming  off  gaunt  and  mournful,  without  the 
comfort  of  a  solitary  chick.  The  man  who  prompted 
all  these  enterprises  was  a  heartless  spectator  of 
their  results. 

Mr.  Paul  and  Miss  Judith,  while  outwardly  civil 
and  even  considerate  in  their  treatment  of  each 
other,  had  abated  no  whit  of  their  original  purpose. 
Each  looked  forward  with  pleasurable  anticipation 
to  the  ultimate  eviction  of  the  enemy,  and  the  exclu 
sive  possession  of  the  disputed  tract.  In  the  mind 
of  the  man  there  may  have  been  an  unconscious 


react  ration,  which,  when  his  tide  should  be  a 
would  have  moved  him  to  concede   a 


acreage  to  the  lady,  should  her  bucolic  real  really 
the  test  of  tone  and 


turn  to  him  as  an  humble  supplicant  for  miucy. 
The  lady  herself  was  hke  granite  in  her  purpose. 
MHe  shall  not  have  a  single  acre  nor  a  fraction  of 

how  nice  he  tries  to  be,  nothing  can  alter  tike  fact 
that  he  came  up  here  and  persisted  in  building  his 
house  when  my  cottage  was  already  up  and- 1  was 

rf  rf  ~  M. 

living  in  it.  And  he  had  fair  warning  that  he  was 
on  niv  i.sm Q  . 

Meanwhile,  strive  as  she  might  to  be  independent 
of  her  neighbor  and  absolutely  free  from  any  obliga 
tions  to  him,  he  was  perpetually  rendering  assistance 
with  which  she  could  ffl  dispense.  Through  special 
contract  with  the  Birdsalk,  father  and  son,  her  pro 
visions  and  mail  were  brought  up  regularly  twice  a 
week  from  the  town  in  the  valley;  but  when  Mr. 
Paul  rode  by  on  his  sorrel  mare,  courteously  asking 
if  he  might  do  any  errands  on  her  behalf,  her  sugar 
was  sure  to  be  out,  or  baking  powder,  yeast,  soap,  or 

e  adjunct  of  ernfiaed  exist- 


ence  had  run  short,  and  before  she  could  cheek  her 
self,  the  want  would  be  on  her  lips,  or  to  be  plainly 
read  in  her  face. 

^"iivn  tasks  or  chore?  :->.->  heavy  for  her  own 
strength  needed  to  be  performed,  Mr.  Paul  always 
seemed  either  to  anticipate  the  need,  or  to  present 
his  services  at  the  opportune  moment. 

Miss  Judith  may  or  may  not  hare  been  by  nature 


56  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

vindictive,  but  there  is  nothing  so  arouses  the  spirit 
of  mischief  in  a  woman  as  to  have  a  man  steadfastly 
persist  in  unasked  and  undesired  attentions,  which 
nevertheless  could  ill  be  spared  by  the  recipient. 
The  lady  repaid  him  with  every  malicious  little 
prank,  every  neglectful  and  inconsiderate  act,  that 
her  fertile  brain  could  devise. 

Most  vexatious  was  this  relation  of  helpless  de 
pendence  when  accident  brought  it  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  outer  world. 

"  Well,  I  swan  !  "  exclaimed  old  farmer  Birdsall, 
bringing  a  load  of  pumpkins  up  to  the  cottage  one 
day,  and  coming  upon  a  truly  pastoral  scene. 

A  row  of  freshly  dug  holes  in  the  loamy  earth 
back  of  the  cottage  indicated  the  destination  of 
some  raspberry  vines,  whose  scraggy  branches  were 
bravely  beginning  to  leave  out  from  a  trench  where 
they  had  lately  been  "  heeled  in." 

At  the  end  of  the  row  Miss  Judith  stood,  one 
gloved  hand  holding  upright  the  tip  of  a  thorny 
stalk,  while  Mr.  Paul  industriously  shoveled  earth 
about  its  roots. 

The  girl  was  manifestly  embarrassed  by  the  arri 
val  of  the  visitor.  Not  so  the  young  man,  who 
greeted  the  old  farmer  in  the  most  cordial  way. 

"  Just  in  the  nick  of  time  with  our  planting,  are 
we  not  ?  "  he  asked,  indicating  a  gray  bank  gather 
ing  in  the  southeast. 

"  Nothing  but  fog.  'T  is  n't  time  for  a  southeaster 
this  season  o'  year,"  corrected  the  man  of  experience 
indulgently.  "  By  Jumbo  !  So  you  've  made  up 
friends,  an'  settled  your  diffunces.  Now  I  says  to 


A   WILLFUL   WOMAN  57 

my  wife,  I  says,  '  There  's  that  man  an'  that  woman, 
up  that  gulch,  each  of  'em  alone  to  theirselves,  an' 
no  one  can  tell  when  they  '11  need  a  good  neighbor, 
pow'ful  bad,'  I  says.  '  An'  if,  insted  o'  jawin'  an' 
scrappin',  they  'd  just  look  at  things  sensible-like,  an' 
settle  up  their  diffunces,'  I  says,  *  they  'd  both  be 
showing  long  heads  an'  live  together  in  neighborly 
peace.' " 

"  But  we  're  not  neighbors.  Mr.  Paul 's  my  ten 
ant,"  interposed  Miss  Judith  quickly. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  can  get  any  rent  for 
that  little  patch  o'  land  up  there,  half  a  mile  from 
any  road.  No  pasture,  no  grain  land,  no  nothing !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  contradict  the  lady,"  put  in  Mr. 
Paul  gravely,  "  but  the  fact  is,  Miss  Judith  's  my 
tenant.  Her  rent  is  in  arrears,  and  this  is  the  only 
way  I  have  of  getting  even  with  her.  No,  Miss 
Judith,  I  would  n't  stamp  the  earth  down  with  my 
foot.  This  is  the  better  way,  if  you  will  permit 
me  !  "  he  added  seriously,  firming  the  earth  around 
the  roots  of  the  plant  with  the  pressure  of  his  palms. 

Occasionally  Mr.  Paul's  sufferings  were  along 
the  lines  of  strictly  poetic  justice.  The  guinea-fowl 
took  a  fancy  to  change  their  roosting-place  to  the 
trees  bordering  the  stream  close  by  his  cabin,  and 
awakened  him  in  turn  with  their  unearthly  clamor 
at  daybreak.  The  white  turkey's  favorite  foraging- 
ground  was  upon  his  newly  planted  beet  patch ; 
while  Sairy  Ann,  escaping  from  her  tether,  invari 
ably  chose  her  race-course  through  his  garden  and 
around  his  abode  ;  and  although  on  such  occasions 
Mr.  Paul  would  bring  back  the  truant  himself,  lead- 


58  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

ing  her  by  her  rope  to  her  assigned  pasture-ground, 
Miss  Judith  received  the  prodigal  without  a  word  of 
regret  or  apology  for  the  damage  she  had  wrought. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Paul's  sorrel  mare  had  a 
naughty  habit  of  sometimes  straying  beyond  bounds, 
and  on  more  than  one  occasion,  after  a  hard  day's 
toil,  he  passed  Miss  Judith's  abode,  halter  in  hand, 
pursuing  an  imaginary  track  leading  into  the  next 
canon  or  down  into  the  valley,  only  to  return  at 
dusk,  after  a  fruitless  search,  to  find  the  animal 
quietly  grazing  under  the  oaks.  At  such  times  he 
had  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  the  animal  had  been 
in  the  near  vicinity  of  Miss  Judith's  dwelling  all 
the  time,  and  that  the  lady  of  the  mansion  might 
have  spared  him  weary  hours  of  unproductive  exer 
tion,  had  she  chosen. 

Orlando's  job  at  Miss  Judith's,  which  she  had 
expected  to  have  finished  in  a  few  days  at  most, 
extended  itself  to  weeks.  When  she  expressed  im 
patience  at  the  long  delay  in  bringing  water  so  short 
a  distance,  he  puckered  up  his  mouth  wisely. 

"  Better  make  a  good,  sol-solid  job,  Miss  Judith, 
—  a  good,  solid  job  while  we  're  about  it !  " 

His  parents,  suspecting  that  the  unconscionable 
time  the  boy  expended  up  the  gulch  was  being  squan 
dered  upon  trapping  birds  or  in  studying  the  habits 
of  the  wild  things  about  him,  with  a  zeal  for  natural 
history  which  had  been  strictly  discountenanced  by 
his  wise  elders,  communicated  these  misgivings  to 
Miss  Judith.  She  thereupon  made  several  trips 
to  the  scene  of  Orlando's  labors,  to  ascertain  what 
progress  he  was  making,  but  invariably  found  the 


A  WILLFUL  WOMAN  59 

youth  working  like  a  savage,  shoveling  earth  or 
picking  rock.  It  occurred  to  her,  one  of  these  times, 
that  he  was  making  very  elaborate  preparations  for 
the  laying  of  a  small  box  sluice. 

"  Is  it  the  custom,  Orlando,  to  dig  a  ditch  as  big 
and  deep  as  this,  to  lay  a  sluice  in  ? "  she  once 
asked. 

"  Nothing  like  making  a  good,  sol-solid  job  while 
we  're  about  it,  Miss  Judith,"  he  repeated.  "  Them 's 
my  sentiments.  This  here  sluice  is  come  to  stay. 
It  ain't  going  to  be  washed  away  by  the  first 
st-storm ;  and  if  it  si-slops  over,  there  '11  be  some 
thing  to  catch  the  water,  and  keep  it  from  mud- 
mud-muddying  up  the  whole  country." 

As  his  work  finally  neared  completion,  she  em 
phatically  objected  to  carrying  ditch  and  sluice  past 
her  cottage. 

"  All  I  want  is  water  for  the  house,  and  to  irrigate 
my  berry  patch  back  of  it,"  she  explained. 

"  That 's  all  r-r-right,  ma'am.  You  only  need  to 
pull  this  pi-plug,  and  you  've  got  the  water  where 
you  need  it.  But  what  '11  you  do  when  you  ain't 
using  it?  It'll  be  sp-spilling  all  over  your  yard, 
making  it  all  nasty  and  sog-soggy.  You  just  let 
it  run  down  hill  in  the  pas-pasture,  and  you  can 
have  as  pretty  an  al-al-alfalfa  field  as  there  is  in  the 
valley." 

Miss  Judith  appreciated  the  wisdom  of  Orlan 
do's  plans  the  day  when  the  water  was  first  turned 
into  the  sluice.  It  overflowed  the  latter  and  filled 
the  ditch  from  bank  to  bank,  a  boiling  torrent,  dis 
charging  itself  in  a  stream  like  a  waterspout  down 


60  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

the  hillside,  hydraulicking  a  miniature  lake  in  the 
meadow  below  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes.  She 
followed  the  course  of  this  waterfall,  and  saw  a 
ghastly  head,  crowned  by  a  pair  of  long  horns,  lifted 
above  the  surface  of  the  pond.  Orlando  flew  to 
Sairy  Ann's  rescue.  With  a  few  energetic  strokes 
of  his  shovel  he  diverted  the  water,  distributing  the 
main  current  into  a  number  of  harmless  minor 
streams,  which  trickled  peacefully  over  the  arid 
land. 

"  Good  thing  she  's  got  such  long  legs,  Miss 
Judith ! "  he  cried.  "  Sairy  Ann  was  n't  born  to 
be  drowned.  My  land  !  Would  n't  she  make  a 
spr-sprinter,  now  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  's  a  great  advantage  to  a  cow,"  re 
plied  the  lady  doubtfully;  "but  I  can't  see  the 
exact  value  of  such  a  possession  to  the  owner." 

"Sid-Sid-Sidney  Smith  says,  Miss  Judith,  that 
true  economy  is  the  ap-application  of  waste  forces. 
Now,  there  are  Sairy  Ann's  legs  going  all  to  waste. 
It  just  ri-riles  me  to  think  of  it." 

Orlando  pondered  the  subject  of  Sairy  Ann's 
phenomenal  legs  to  some  purpose.  In  the  end  he 
constructed  a  treadmill  attachment  to  Miss  Judith's 
rotary  churn,  placed  Sairy  Ann  in  the  mill,  and 
travelers  through  the  wilds  of  the  Vernal  Hills  were 
thereafter  treated  to  the  unwonted  sight  of  a  long- 
legged  red  cow  placidly  chewing  her  cud,  and  churn 
ing  her  own  cream  into  butter. 

The  afternoon  that  Orlando  completed  his  triumph 
of  hydraulic  engineering,  and  turned  the  water  into 
ditch  and  sluice,  Mr.  Paul  rode  up  to  the  cottage 


A  WILLFUL  WOMAN  61 

and  hailed  the  youth,  who  had  gathered  up  his  tools 
and  was  on  the  point  of  departure. 

"  I  want  to  know  under  whose  instructions  you 
have  been  acting  in  making  this  ditch  ?  "  demanded 
the  young  man.  "  Is  this  an  original  idea  of  yours, 
or  are  you  acting  under  directions  ?  " 

Miss  Judith  saved  the  startled  and  stammering 
boy  the  embarrassment  of  replying,  appearing 
promptly  at  the  cottage  door. 

"  He  has  been  acting  solely  under  my  instructions 
and  directions,  Mr.  Paul,"  she  answered,  lifting  her 
small  head  proudly. 

Instead  of  addressing  her  with  his  usual  gentle 
courtesy,  Mr.  Paul  was  formal  and  severe. 

"  Then  the  water  here  was  taken  from  the  stream 
by  your  direction  and  at  your  instance,  Miss  Ju 
dith  ?  "  he  said  coldly. 

"  Certainly !  "  answered  the  girl,  even  more  icily, 
indignant  at  his  tone  and  demand. 

"  What  am  I  to  understand,  then  ?  " 

"Understand!  Understand  that  I  assert  my 
right  to  the  water.  That  I  am  going  to  have  the 
very  nicest  berries  next  summer  that  have  ever  been 
grown  in  the  Vernal  Hills !  " 

Mr.  Paul  was  very  pale,  and  was  evidently  exer 
cising  severe  self-restraint.  Twice  he  opened  his 
lips  to  speak,  but  resolutely  closed  them.  At  length, 
lifting  his  hat,  he  rode  down  in  the  direction  of  the 
valley. 

After  this  episode,  which  Miss  Judith  pondered 
with  growing  resentment  and  perplexity,  a  very  per 
ceptible  change  entered  into  Mr.  Paul's  behavior. 


62  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

She  was  no  longer  annoyed  by  his  solicitous  atten 
tions.  Although  he  still  occasionally  offered  some 
slight  service,  these  offers  were  made  in  a  perfunc 
tory  way,  and  he  did  not  appear  in  the  least  sur 
prised  when  they  were  declined.  They  soon  fell 
into  a  habit  of  merely  bowing  very  distantly  when 
they  met,  and  these  meetings  were  as  seldom  as  Miss 
Judith  could  make  them,  for  she  took  great  pains  to 
retreat  into  her  castle  whenever  she  saw  her  surly 
neighbor  approaching. 

The  rains  came  early  that  season,  and  when  a  car 
pet  of  verdure  began  to  cover  all  the  hills  and  val 
leys,  when  the  streams  went  leaping  madly  down  the 
gulches,  swollen  with  winter  floods,  and  the  few  de 
ciduous  trees  along  their  margin,  shaking  themselves 
free  from  the  dying  leaves  that  still  clung  to  their 
branches,  began  to  timidly  put  forth  new  buds  and 
tassels,  it  was  observable  that  Mr.  Paul's  manner 
toward  his  little  neighbor  relaxed.  But  Miss  Judith, 
vaguely  wounded  and  resenting  his  unaccountable 
behavior,  received  these  overtures  coldly,  and  gave 
him  no  encouragement  to  attempt  to  pass  the  invisi 
ble  barrier  which  had  somehow  grown  up  between 
them. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

AN  ARMISTICE 

WITH  two  healthy  and,  on  the  whole,  normal 
young  people,  such  a  state  of  affairs  could  not  for 
ever  continue,  and  this  sense  of  bitter  hostility, 
whatever  its  source,  dissolved  in  a  gust  of  childish 
merriment  on  Christmas  Day. 

It  was  a  day  of  memories  to  both,  a  day  that  it 
required  strength  and  courage  to  calmly  face.  Miss 
Judith  had  risen  at  daybreak  that  morning,  and 
gone  energetically  about  her  tasks,  shutting  out  all 
thought  of  past  or  future.  She  had  cared  for  her 
cow  and  chickens,  swept  and  dusted  her  house,  and 
set  about  some  unusually  elaborate  preparations  for 
her  solitary  afternoon  meal.  And  then,  in  the  midst 
of  a  pastry  baking,  she  had  suddenly  gone  to  a  little 
cabinet  that  hung  on  her  wall,  and  had  taken  out  a 
photograph,  looking  long  and  sadly  at  the  handsome 
boyish  face,  bowing  over  it,  in  a  tempest  of  tears, 
crying  wildly :  — 

"  Oh,  Rob,  Rob !  My  dear,  dear  boy !  Where 
are  you  to-day?  I  am  so  lonely,  so  lonely,  Rob, 
without  you !  " 

Having  regained  her  composure,  trying  to  escape 
from  herself  and  her  sorrows,  her  thoughts  had 
turned  to  her  lonely  neighbor  up  the  gulch,  and, 
although  she  would,  without  compunction,  have 


64  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

robbed  him  of  land  and  property,  her  woman's  heart 
was  overwhelmed  with  pity  as  she  reflected  that, 
being  a  man,  he  could  by  no  possibility  be  able  to 
prepare  himself  a  decent  Christmas  dinner ! 

With  Miss  Judith,  to  think  was  to  act.  She  has 
tened  back  to  her  kitchen,  renewed  her  labors  with 
new  zeal,  lit  all  the  burners  of  the  gasoline  range, 
and  soon  through  doors  and  windows  floated  savory 
vapors,  appealing  to  hungry  nostrils. 

It  was  but  a  little  past  noon  when  the  girl  set  out 
on  her  mission  of  charity.  She  had,  with  feminine 
inconsistency,  gowned  herself  daintily  for  the  occa 
sion,  having  donned  a  pale  gray  cambric,  finished 
with  fine  needlework  at  collar  and  wrists,  and  wear 
ing  smoked-pearl  ornaments  ;  and  with  her  gray  chip 
hat  tied  down  over  her  ears,  and  a  covered  basket 
on  her  arm,  she  looked  like  some  sedate  little  shep 
herdess.  An  expression  of  conscious  rectitude  was 
on  her  face,  the  light  of  her  generous  purpose 
shone  in  her  eyes. 

Halfway  down  the  trail  she  met  Mr.  Paul.  One 
of  his  arms  clasped  a  mass  of  manzanita  branches 
laden  with  clustered  scarlet  berries,  the  Christmas 
holly  of  California.  In  the  other  hand  he  carried 
a  platter,  and  on  it  was  a  smoking  haunch  of 
venison. 

"  I  could  not  be  so  selfish  as  to  enjoy  these  alone," 
he  began. 

"  Nor  I !  "  she  chimed,  holding  up  her  basket. 

Both  laughed. 

"  Now  that  you  are  so  far  on  the  way,  come  to  my 
cabin,"  he  urged. 


AN  ARMISTICE  65 

"  No.     Let  us  go  back  to  my  cottage." 

"  Miss  Judith,  suppose  we  compromise  and  take 
our  Christmas  dinner  in  the  open,"  proposed  the 
young  man.  "  I  know  a  delightful  spot,  not  a  stone's 
throw  away." 

Nothing  loath,  she  followed  him  along  a  narrow 
path  through  the  underbrush,  to  where  a  tiny  bench 
lay  like  a  shelf  on  the  steep  bluff,  making  room  for 
a  giant  live-oak.  A  great  boulder  beneath  its  shade 
offered  a  solid  if  somewhat  uneven  table. 

"  We  will  lunch  in  the  old  Eoman  style.  Here 
is  my  divan !  "  cried  Mr.  Paul,  throwing  himself 
down  on  the  sod  beneath,  green  as  emerald. 

She  seated  herself  more  cautiously,  furtively  ex 
amining  the  ground  for  ants  and  spiders,  and 
selecting  for  herself  a  hollow  in  the  roots  of  the  tree. 

Mr.  Paul  had  placed  the  venison  on  top  of  the  big 
rock,  and  he  now  threw  the  bright  berries  around 
her,  embowering  her  in  green  and  scarlet. 

"  You  look  like  a  veritable  wood-nymph,"  he  said 
lightly.  "  All  in  gray  and  green.  When  you  have 
finished  eating,  I  shall  expect  you  to  knock  on  the 
trunk  of  the  oak  and  disappear,  like  the  hamadryads 
of  old." 

"  Instead  of  which,  belonging  to  this  very  prosaic 
age,  I  shall  go  home  and  wash  my  dishes,"  she  re 
plied.  "  But  first  let  us  dispose  of  their  contents." 

Out  of  her  basket  came  a  roast  chicken,  nicely 
browned,  with  a  little  flask  of  warm  gravy ;  Boston 
brown  bread  and  butter ;  crisp  lettuce,  dressed  with 
mayonnaise ;  cream  puffs  ;  a  mould  of  jelly  ;  a  tiny 
plum-pudding,  and  a  couple  of  mince  turnovers. 


66  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

Mr.  Paul  watched  these  revelations  with  a  greedy 
eye. 

"  The  first  civilized  food  I  have  seen  in  six 
months !  "  he  averred. 

"  See  that  you  do  justice  to  it ! "  returned  the 
girl,  secretly  pluming  herself  on  her  discernment. 
"  And  this  is  my  first  game  for  a  twelvemonth." 

"  Here  is  an  ideal  carver." 

He  drew  from  its  sheath  a  horn-handled  hunting- 
knife  with  a  flashing  blade,  politely  tendering  the 
use  of  his  pocket-knife  to  her. 

They  ate  slowly  and  luxuriously,  with  keen  appe 
tites  whetted  by  the  fresh  outdoor  air  and  the  exer 
tions  of  the  day.  Sometimes  they  chatted  pleasantly 
together.  More  often  they  gazed  silently  down  into 
the  pretty  nook  where  the  stream  rippled  below,  or 
out  over  the  distant  valley  with  its  farms  and  vil 
lages  fronting  the  dazzling,  restless  sea. 

"  Why  did  you  come  up  here  ?  "  she  asked  him 
once,  impetuously. 

"  I  had  a  purse  of  gold,"  he  answered  dreamily. 
"  From  my  earliest  recollection,  I  possessed  it. 
Although  I  spent  freely  of  it,  it  never  was  empty. 
It  brought  me  friends,  popularity,  comfort,  occupa 
tion.  I  thought  it  never  could  be  exhausted.  But 
one  day  I  drew  from  it  my  last  coin.  The  purse 
itself  vanished.  I  came  up  here  to  repent  my  folly." 

She  heard  him  gravely  and  thoughtfully. 

"  And  you  ?  "  he  at  length  said. 

"  I  had  no  purse.  If  I  had  owned  one,  I  would 
not  have  cared  for  it.  But  I  had  a  beautiful  gem. 
I  was  told  that  if  I  would  keep  it  untarnished,  I 


AN  ARMISTICE  67 

would  one  day  be  crowned  a  queen,  with  this  stone 
for  the  chief  of  my  crown  jewels.  One  day  I  lost 
it.  I  ain  always  seeking  it,  but  I  can  never  find  it." 

Her  voice  had  sunk  into  a  tone  of  indescribable 
pathos.  He  reached  over  and  gently  placed  upon 
her  bare  head  the  chaplet  of  manzanita  berries  that 
he  had  been  weaving. 

"  You  shall  still  be  crowned,"  he  said.  "  These 
are  better  than  jewels." 

Old  memories  again  had  possession  of  her.  She 
did  not  raise  her  eyes  lest  he  should  see  the  tears 
that  had  gathered  there.  Had  she  encountered  his 
gaze  in  that  moment,  she  might  have  seen  a  look 
that  comes  into  a  man's  face  but  once  in  a  lifetime. 

The  sun  was  dropping  low  in  the  west  and  the 
shadows  growing  long.  She  sprang  to  her  feet, 
dropping  the  chaplet.  Again  she  was  the  matter-of- 
fact  little  woman  of  the  paper  cottage. 

"  It  is  growing  late.  The  mists  are  rising,  and 
my  chickens  will  be  clamoring  for  their  supper,"  she 
said,  beginning  to  clear  away  the  remnants  of  the 
feast.  The  young  man  joined  her. 

" '  A  banquet-hall  deserted  ! '  "  he  quoted,  looking 
back  under  the  oak,  as  they  walked  away.  "  But 
how  pleasant  it  has  been !  " 

"  It  has  been  dreadfully  unconventional,"  mur 
mured  the  girl  shyly. 

*'  I  have  found  that  the  dearest  pleasures  in  the 
world,  and  the  purest  and  most  innocent,  are  apt  to  be 
unconventional,"  returned  the  young  man  earnestly. 

He  accompanied  her  back  to  the  mesa,  declining 
her  invitation  to  tarry  there. 


68  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  For  this  one  perfect  day,  I  am  tempted  to  for 
give  you  all  of  my  injuries,"  he  said,  lingering  there. 

"  Your  injuries !  If  any  one  has  been  the  injured 
party,  I  am  sure  it  is  I,"  declared  Miss  Judith, 
drawing  up  her  slight  figure  and  darting  an  indig 
nant  glance  at  him. 

"  Never  mind !  Some  day  I  shall  wipe  out  all  old 
scores  in  one  master  stroke  of  retribution.  Until 
then,  I  grant  you  absolution." 

Firm  in  the  conviction  of  the  justice  of  her  cause 
and  the  integrity  of  her  every  act,  Miss  Judith 
reviewed  this  parting  charge  of  Mr.  Paul's,  and 
at  each  rehearsal  of  this  interview  gathered  fresh  re 
sentment.  Failing  to  account  for  this  extraordinary 
accusation  coming  so  suddenly  in  the  wake  of  so 
pleasant  an  afternoon,  she  set  him  down  as  a  man 
of  moods,  whose  disposition  nobody  could  rely 
upon.  Being  an  exceedingly  well-balanced  young 
woman  herself,  she  decided  Mr.  Paul's  vagaries  to 
be  inexcusable. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    BLACK   CURTAIN 

IN  the  valley,  dark  rumors  of  a  mysterious  nature 
were  being  circulated  concerning  Mr.  Paul. 

The  time  has  gone  by  when  a  hermit  could  dwell 
tranquilly  in  his  cave,  wrapt  in  reverie  and  undis 
turbed  by  the  intrusion  of  vulgar  curiosity.  No 
matter  how  resolutely  a  man  in  these  days  attempts 
to  separate  himself  from  the  world,  society  will  seek 
him  out,  going  about  the  errand  with  all  the  more 
avidity  because  of  the  interest  aroused  by  any  ec 
centric  variation  from  the  common  human  type.  Mr. 
Paul,  who  would  have  held  himself  aloof  from  his 
fellows,  who  made  no  acquaintances  and  was  mani 
festly  lacking  in  the  first  gregarian  instinct,  found 
that,  unless  he  wished  to  set  up  a  reputation  as  a  ver 
itable  monster,  he  must  open  his  doors  to  certain 
travelers,  and  extend  a  sincere  hospitality  to  unbid 
den  guests. 

It  is  an  honored  custom  of  the  California  moun 
tains  to  freely  welcome  to  the  meanest  cabin  every 
man  journeying  through  the  wilderness,  a  custom 
handed  down  from  the  much  despised  and  griev 
ously  misjudged  native  Californians  of  Mexican 
ancestry,  among  whom  the  poorest  and  lowliest  ex 
hibit  kindly  hearts  and  an  unreckoning  generosity 
which  puts  to  shame  the  calculating  Gringo. 


70  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

Throughout  the  mountain  regions  of  southern 
California,  any  man  who  is  "  on  the  trail "  may 
enter  a  cabin,  even  in  the  owner's  absence,  possess 
himself  of  bed  and  blankets,  and  help  himself  from 
whatever  stores  the  abode  contains.  If  he  be  able 
and  considerate,  he  will  leave  a  supply  of  sugar, 
coffee,  tobacco,  or  ammunition  to  compensate  for 
what  he  has  taken  ;  but  the  more  common  practice 
is  to  trust  to  chance  to  return  such  hospitality  in 
kind. 

Mr.  Paul's  house,  being  directly  on  the  line  of  a 
trail  leading  to  a  favorite  pass  over  the  sierra,  of 
fered  a  convenient  camping-ground  for  men  coming 
up  from  the  valley  who  wished  to  make  an  early 
start  up  the  ascent  the  next  morning.  Sportsmen, 
cattlemen,  ranchers,  miners,  came  constantly  to  his 
door.  In  stormy  weather,  it  was  a  common  expe 
rience  for  him  to  be  awakened  at  midnight  by  the 
entrance  of  some  mountaineer  who  had  compassed 
the  passage  of  the  range  in  rain  or  snow,  who  would 
silently  stir  up  the  dying  embers  in  the  fireplace, 
throw  on  a  stick  of  wood,  and,  without  a  word, 
wrapping  his  blankets  around  him,  stretch  himself 
out  on  the  hearth  like  a  tired  dog,  to  sleep  off  his 
fatigue. 

Little  by  little,  strange  stories  related  by  these 
wayfarers  began  to  find  circulation  in  the  valley, 
which  had  never  understood  Mr.  Paul,  and,  not  un 
derstanding  him,  had  all  along  sternly  disapproved 
of  the  young  man  and  his  ways. 

Mrs.  Birdsall,  coming  up,  armed  with  her  knit 
ting,  to  spend  the  afternoon  with  Miss  Judith,  first 
brought  tidings  of  these  weird  tales. 


THE   BLACK  CURTAIN  71 

"  Now,  what  do  you  think,  Miss  Judith !  They  say 
he  has  a  big  curtain,  black  as  night,  stretched  across 
the  hull  end  of  his  big  room." 

"  I  should  certainly  say  that  he  had  questionable 
taste,"  replied  the  girl  smiling. 

"  Taste  !  But  you  ought  to  hear  the  way  the  men 
all  carry  on  'bout  the  fancy  fixin's  he  has  round ! 
Carpets  hanging  on  the  wall,  with  the  floor  all  bare, 
if  you  '11  believe  me  !  Plates  with  pictures  on  'em 
stuck  up  on  nails,  an'  more  flummeries  and  gim- 
cracks,  from  what  they  say,  than  Mis'  Montrose  has 
in  her  parlor,  an'  she  tuk  a  whole  course  in  decorat 
ing  art,  she  did !  Taste  !  He  's  got  loads  of  it,  — 
hammered  brass  things,  an'  china,  an'  sech  !  " 

"  Oh  !  "  commented  Miss  Judith,  much  edified. 

"  There  's  no  question  about  his  havin'  taste,  an' 
to  spare,"  persevered  Mrs.  Birdsall.  "  But  why  he 
should  string  up  that  great  curtain,  black  as  night, 
is  what  gets  me.  Nobody 's  ever  seen  him  go  behind 
it,  an'  when  some  of  'em  made  bold  enough  to  ask 
him  what  it 's  for,  he  just  lets  on  like  he  does  n't 
hear  'em." 

"  Perhaps  he  hangs  his  clothes  behind  it,  or  keeps 
his  books  there,  or  uses  it  for  a  little  storeroom,  or 
something,"  suggested  the  girl. 

"  Humph !  Clothes-press  ten  feet  across  an'  fifteen 
feet  long !  Pretty  good  size  for  a  closet,  ain't  it ! 
Abe  Workman  got  the  measure  by  pacing  off  the 
floor  inside,  an'  measurin'  the  outside  of  the  timbers 
when  Mr.  Paul  was  n't  round.  Abe,  he  let  on  to  go 
behind  it  an'  see  for  himself  what  was  there,  he  did, 
that  same  time.  But  he  'clared  to  goodness,  Abe 


72  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

did,  —  an'  he 's  a  truthful  man  an'  no  coward,  —  that 
the  minute  he  touched  his  hand  to  the  curtain  some 
thing  came  over  him  like  a  'lectric  shock,  an'  he 
just  had  to  drop  it." 

Miss  Judith  was  suddenly  reminded  of  the  piece 
of  heavy  black  cloth  she  had  seen  hanging  from  the 
packing-case  on  the  occasion  of  her  first  and  only 
visit  to  her  neighbor's  chosen  home-site.  She  re 
called  the  strange  creeping  sensation  she  had  ex 
perienced  on  seeing  it.  Even  now,  sitting  in  the 
bright,  wholesome  sunlight,  a  shudder  stole  over  her 
at  the  recollection. 

"  Not  a  door  or  window  is  there  in  all  that  end  o' 
the  cabin ! "  insisted  Mrs.  Birdsall  impressively. 
"  And  that  black  curtain  hanging  from  the  ceiling 
to  the  floor.  Do  you  know  the  only  place  they  sell 
that  sort  o'  cloth?  Abe  Workman  worked  along 
o'  an  undertaker  when  he  was  a  young  man,  and  he 
knows ! " 

There  was  something  blood-curdling  in  the  infer 
ence  to  be  drawn  from  this  statement  of  her  visitor, 
but  Miss  Judith  struggled  against  it. 

"  Perhaps  he  is  an  inventor,"  she  said  cheerfully. 
"  And  possibly  he  lifts  the  black  curtain  when  no  one 
is  there  to  see  or  disturb  him.  He  may  be  at  work 
on  some  instrument  or  machine  he  keeps  behind  it. 
Perhaps  it  is  some  electrical  device  that  carries  a 
charged  atmosphere  about  it,  and  the  black  curtain 
may  be  a  sort  of  shield,  a  non-conductor,  to  keep  its 
influence  from  extending  further." 

The  visitor  gave  a  contemptuous  sniff  at  this  pro 
posed  explanation. 


THE  BLACK  CURTAIN  73 

"  If  it 's  an  instrument,  or  a  machine,  as  you  say, 
it  's  something  he  does  n't  want  people  to  see. 
Mark  my  words,  Miss  Judith,  that  black  curtain 
means  no  good !  " 

"  Why,  I  shall  have  to  go  up  to  Mr.  Paul's  cabin 
and  see  this  mysterious  drapery  for  myself,"  said 
the  girl  laughing.  "  He  has  often  invited  me. 
And  then,  when  he  is  showing  me  over  his  dwell 
ing,  which  he  declares  much  more  substantial  than 
mine,  I  will  myself  lift  the  black  curtain  and  see 
what  lies  behind  it." 

"  Don't  you  do  no  such  thing,  Miss  Judith ! " 
the  elder  woman  earnestly  conjured  her.  "  You  're 
young,  and  haven't  had  much  experunce,  I  dare 
say,  an'  don't  know  much  yet,  but  let  me  tell  you 
it 's  evil  things  an'  evil  ways  that  hides  theirselves 
in  darkness.  One  o'  these  days  we  '11  hear  more  o' 
this  here  Mr.  Paul." 

"  You  mean "  —  began  the  girl,  seriously  con 
cerned. 

"  Yes,  my  dear.  I  mean  he  may  be  up  to  doin's 
that  '11  yet  bring  him  to  public  notice,"  stated  the 
old  lady  placidly.  "  Now,  I  '11  tell  you  suthin'  my 
boy  Orlando  told  me  last  night,  an'  made  me  pro 
mise  I  'd  never  tell.  Only  you  must  n't  say  no  word 
about  it.  The'  's  a  pile  o'  counterfeit  half  dollars 
lately  been  put  in  circ'lation  in  this  county  some- 
wheres." 

"  And  Mr.  Paul "  — 

"  I  make  no  accusations,  an'  I  don't  say  he  's  in 
nocent,  an'  I  don't  say  he 's  guilty,  mind  you !  But 
one  o'  these  days  we  '11  be  hearing  more  about  this 


74  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

Mr.  Paul,  an'  people  far  an'  wide  '11  hear  it ;  an' 
this  black  curtain  is  goin'  to  be  lifted  some  day,  an' 
it  '11  cut  a  figure  in  the  story !  " 

Miss  Judith  laughed.  She  could  not  know  that 
one  day  Mrs.  Birdsall's  prediction  would  be  fulfilled, 
and  that  she  herself  would  play  a  part  in  the  stirring 
drama. 


CHAPTER  X 

AN   ALARMING  DISCOVERY 

HITHERTO  Mr.  Paul  had  been  an  embarrassment 
to  Miss  Judith,  —  a  person  whose  presence  upon  her 
claim  was  a  menace  to  her  rights,  who  deserved  and 
received  her  condemnation  from  a  strictly  business 
point  of  view.  Yet  there  were  times  when  she  would 
very  much  have  liked  to  recognize  this  antagonist  as 
her  friend,  had  such  an  attitude  been  consistent  with 
her  material  interests. 

The  strange  rumors  brought  to  her  knowledge  by 
Mrs.  Birdsall  invested  him  with  a  new  and  uncanny 
interest.  Previous  to  this  she  had  accepted  him  for 
what  he  had  seemed,  —  a  frank,  straightforward, 
though  somewhat  obstinate  young  man,  whose 
claims  were  unfortunately  in  conflict  with  her  own, 
but  who  was  to  be  tolerated,  and  accorded  a  certain 
sympathy  when  the  case  should  be  decided  in  her 
favor,  a  result  which  she  never  for  a  moment  ques 
tioned.  Now  she  recalled  the  saying  of  an  old 
heathen  philosopher  to  the  effect  that  the  greatest 
secretiveness  of  character  was  invariably  concealed 
beneath  the  mask  of  an  apparently  open  and  confid 
ing  nature,  and  she  recalled  countless  incidents  in 
support  of  this  theory,  significant  reservations  and 
more  significant  half  admissions,  all  of  which  went 
to  prove  that  Mr.  Paul  was  a  man  whose  past  was 


76  THE  BLACK   CURTAIN 

veiled  in  mystery,  and  who  carried  beneath  his 
frank  countenance  some  dark  secret  which  the  black 
curtain  symbolized. 

Personal  thoughts  and  morbid  forebodings  dare 
not  intrude  too  constantly  upon  the  man  or  woman 
who  undertakes  to  keep  pace  with  the  demands  of 
California  ranch  life.  Here  nature  has  no  period 
of  rest,  and  her  ceaseless  activity  from  year's  begin 
ning  to  year's  end  exacts  corresponding  attention 
from  those  who  would  reap  her  bounty.  With 
chickens  hatching,  strawberries  blossoming,  fruit 
ing,  and  sending  out  runners  every  month  in  the 
year,  raspberries  and  blackberries  bearing  at  longer 
intervals,  but  in  ever  increasing  quantities,  and 
miscellaneous  gardening  in  progress  all  the  year 
round,  Miss  Judith  had  no  leisure  and  little  thought 
to  give  to  Mr.  Paul  and  his  black  curtain. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  all  of  these  rural  enter 
prises  prospered.  Flocks  of  brown  birds  contended 
with  cutworms  for  her  early  vegetables,  and  other 
pests  attacked  the  tender  growths ;  for  it  is  a  pain 
ful  fact,  learned  through  sad  experience  by  those 
who  for  the  first  time  break  virgin  soil  along  the 
foot-hills  of  the  Coast  Range,  that  close  proxim 
ity  to  wild  primeval  growth  brings  down  upon  the 
rancher  a  host  of  small  enemies  of  every  descrip 
tion,  which  leave  devastation  in  their  wake.  It  was 
only  through  unflagging  industry  and  constant 
attention  that  a  meagre  crop  of  berries  was  pre 
served  from  these  scourges,  and  Miss  Judith  had 
the  pleasure  of  marketing,  from  her  own  ground 
and  as  the  achievement  of  her  own  hands'  labor, 


AN  ALARMING  DISCOVERY  77 

some  of  the  choicest  fruit  ever  seen  in  the  Golden 
State. 

No  Wall  Street  broker  ever  enjoyed  a  triumph  so 
lofty,  an  exultation  so  great,  or  a  pride  so  whole 
some  and  so  abounding,  as  that  which  comes  to  the 
man  or  woman  who  for  the  first  time  wrests  from 
Mother  Earth,  by  individual  labor,  some  delicious 
article  of  food  of  marketable  value,  and  who  learns 
what  it  is  to  become  enrolled  as  one  of  the  producers 
among  the  human  race. 

The  girl  was  too  exhausted  with  picking  and 
packing  the  berries  in  their  square  splint  boxes  to 
accompany  Orlando,  who  carried  the  fruit  down  to 
the  village  grocer,  on  the  occasion  of  his  semi-weekly 
visit  to  the  mesa,  bringing  supplies  for  the  fair  lady. 
She  did  not  enjoy  the  full  measure  of  her  triumph 
until  the  following  Saturday,  when  she  stepped  into 
the  store,  and  realized  the  distinction  she  had 
achieved. 

"  Miss  Judith,  I  just  want  to  congratulate  you  on 
them  berries  !  "  cried  the  grocer,  extending  a  horny 
palm. 

"  Is  this  the  lady  who  raised  those  berries  you 
had  on  exhibition  last  week,  Tom  ?  "  asked  a  lounger, 
whose  easy  address  and  confident  manner  proclaimed 
him  a  man  of  local  prestige.  "  Then  I  must  chip 
in  with  my  compliments.  Madam,  they  beat  any 
thing  that  Jim  Thompson  ever  raised.  My  wife  says 
she  would  never  buy  another  berry  from  Thompson, 
if  she  could  be  sure  of  getting  these  big  red  berries 
all  the  time." 

This  was  praise  indeed,  could  the  lady  but  have 


78  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

known  it.  Thompson  was  a  nurseryman  who  sup 
plied  all  the  country  about  with  small  fruits  in  their 
season,  and  who  was  popularly  supposed  to  be  the 
highest  authority  in  horticultural  matters  on  the 
Pacific  Coast. 

Miss  Judith  acknowledged  these  tributes  with 
dignity. 

"  Where  'd  you  get  the  variety?"  pursued  the 
last  speaker. 

"  From  a  Northern  seed-house  and  nursery.  It 's 
entirely  new,  but  they  recommend  it  above  every 
thing  else." 

"  They  're  right.  Let  me  give  you  one  caution," 
said  the  citizen  kindly.  "  Don't  you  let  Jim  Thomp 
son  get  hold  of  any  plants.  Going  to  be  able  to 
ship  any  berries  this  season?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  the  girl.  "  I  have  n't  under 
taken  raising  them  on  any  such  scale." 

"  I  advise  you  to  hurry  up,  then,  and  get  ready 
by  another  season:  It  'd  pay  you.  Shows  what 
can  be  done  in  this  climate,  with  good  soil  and 
plenty  of  water,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  store 
keeper. 

"  You  're  right.  The  Vernal  Hills  can  beat  the 
world  every  time,  just  you  give  them  moisture 
enough ! "  assented  the  latter.  "  How  does  that 
man  named  Paul  —  your  neighbor  up  there  —  take 
it  about  the  water?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Miss 
Judith,  for  whom  he  was  doing  up  a  parcel. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  said  his  customer. 

"That  fellow  Paul!  Didn't  he  make  any  kick 
about  the  water  ?  " 


AN  ALARMING  DISCOVERY  79 

"  Of  course  not,"  returned  the  girl  stiffly.  "  He 
knows  I  am  entitled  to  the  whole  stream." 

"  When  it  comes  to  a  question  of  water,  in  this 
country,  it  does  n't  seem  to  much  matter  what  a  per 
son  is  entitled  to,"  declared  the  man,  with  a  dry 
smile.  "  More  than  one  poor  fellow  in  the  Vernal 
Hills  has  had  a  bullet  put  through  him  for  taking 
what  the  law  entitled  him  to." 

Beyond  a  sense  of  displeasure  at  having  her  affairs 
so  freely  discussed  in  the  settlement,  this  conversa 
tion  left  little  impression  upon  Miss  Judith.  The 
day  came  when  she  was  destined  to  recall  it  with 
amazement  at  her  own  dullness. 

A  berry  farm,  judiciously  conducted,  is  a  small 
mint  in  California.  Stimulated  by  this  advice,  Miss 
Judith,  who,  although  seemingly  possessed  of  very 
modest  tastes,  was  nevertheless  an  exceedingly  avari 
cious  little  woman,  began  to  plan  for  the  extension 
of  her  small  plantation,  and  to  lie  awake  nights 
counting  her  prospective  profits. 

All  told,  she  had  scarcely  one  tenth  of  an  acre  in 
berries,  yet  at  the  rate  they  were  yielding,  and  with 
the  increased  crops  which  might  be  expected  in  an 
other  year,  a  full  acre  would  yield  a  comfortable 
living  for  a  family.  There  were  not  less  than  three 
acres  of  her  strip  of  upland,  and  another  acre  or  so 
in  the  meadow  below,  which  might  be  similarly 
planted  and  irrigated.  To  do  this  would  require 
a  considerable  outlay  in  the  way  of  hired  labor,  and 
it  would  be  necessary  to  begin  at  once  to  propagate 
on  a  large  scale  from  the  vines  already  brought  to 
the  point  of  production,  thus  cutting  short  her 
coming  crops. 


80  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

The  girl  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  Mr.  Paul 
looked  upon  her  small  successes  with  a  jealous  eye. 
She  had  an  even  better  founded  suspicion  that  his 
own  proudly  vaunted  bucolic  enterprises  had  proved 
a  dismal  failure.  Nor  did  she  spare  his  feelings,  for 
she  diligently  tormented  him  with  mock  solicitude, 
inquiring  feelingly  for  his  onions  and  cabbages,  and 
slyly  insinuating  that  the  valley  below  was  waiting 
with  bated  breath  to  witness  the  marketing  of  his 
crops.  Mr.  Paul  turned  these  inquiries  aside  with 
a  dignity  which  ill  concealed  his  vexation,  but  she 
was  wholly  unprepared  for  the  revenge  she  one  day 
discovered  that  he  had  taken. 

This  second  summer  of  the  young  lady's  life  in 
the  Vernal  Hills  was  warm  and  dry.  The  winter 
rains  had  suddenly  ceased  in  mid-March,  and  were 
succeeded  by  frequent  scorching  winds,  termed 
"northers"  in  the  parlance  of  the  district,  which 
dried  up  the  short  herbage  on  the  hills  and  caused 
fields  of  barley  hay  to  mature  before  their  time,  so 
that  before  the  month  of  May  was  well  past,  farmers 
had  for  the  most  part  cut  and  harvested  their  short, 
succulent  hay  crops,  and  were  sadly  recounting  their 
losses.  The  effect  of  two  successive  years  of  a  rain 
fall  below  the  average  was  severely  felt  throughout 
the  country.  Wells  were  everywhere  drying  up, 
streams  ran  low  or  altogether  failed,  and  the  pro 
blem  of  securing  a  sufficient  water  supply  every 
where  became  the  absorbing  question  of  the  hour. 
Men  quarreled  and  fought  over  the  possession  of 
little  springs.  Homes  were  abandoned,  families 
broken  up,  life-long  enmities  created,  and  the  peace 


AN  ALARMING  DISCOVERY  81 

of  neighborhoods  destroyed  by  wrangling  over  this 
all-engrossing  subject.  Expensive  litigation,  sapping 
the  very  life-blood  of  the  farmer,  ensued. 

Miss  Judith,  who  had  all  along  had  water  and  to 
spare,  was  not  alarmed  when  the  ditch  in  which 
her  sluice  was  laid  began  to  run  low  and  at  length 
became  altogether  dry.  A  gay  little  stream  still 
coursed  merrily  along  the  wooden  conduit,  and  the 
small  galvanized  tank  she  had  at  the  beginning 
of  the  season  placed  above  her  cottage,  connected 
by  a  pipe  with  a  box  in  the  sluice,  was  filled,  yield 
ing  her  an  ample  household  supply. 

In  late  July  she  observed,  with  some  concern,  that 
the  water  in  the  sluice  was  lowering.  By  the  first 
of  August  barely  half  an  inch  flowed  along  the 
sluice,  and  she  began  to  practice  economy  in  her 
irrigation,  watering  her  berries  in  sections,  instead 
of  treating  all  to  a  deluge  in  one  and  the  same 
hour. 

One  day  she  saw  that  the  water  no  longer  flowed 
along  the  sluice  below  the  box  which  filled  her  tank- 
pipe,  unless  she  turned  off  the  supply  for  the  latter. 

For  the  first  time  her  mind  awakened  to  suspi 
cions  that  something  wrong  was  going  on  up  the 
canon.  Setting  a  close  watch  on  the  sluice,  she  dis 
covered  that  twice  a  day,  morning  and  evening,  the 
water  came  down  the  conduit  in  a  few  uneven 
spurts.  During  all  the  remainder  of  the  twenty-four 
hours  not  a  drop  flowed  down. 

What  enemy  was  diverting  from  its  appointed 
course  the  life-giving  stream  which  had  so  gener 
ously  nourished  her  pretty  garden,  and  upon  which 


82  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

she  had  herself  depended  for  drink  and  refreshment  ? 
Who  was  interested  in  making  the  conditions  of  life 
in  these  charming  uplands  untenable  for  her  ?  Who 
would  be  directly  benefited  by  causing  her  to  aban 
don  the  pretty  home  she  had  established  ? 

There  was  but  one  possible  answer. 

Who  but  Mr.  Paul? 

It  was  a  dastardly  act,  but  common  report  had 
made  her  too  familiar  with  such  occurrences  to  re 
gard  it  as  anything  exceptional  or  impossible.  A 
mile  further  along  the  hills  two  happy  families  had 
that  season  been  broken  up,  one  man  laid  in  a  dis 
honored  grave,  and  another  sent  to  the  state  peni 
tentiary,  as  the  result  of  a  bitter  wrangle  over  a 
water  right.  Honor,  character,  human  feeling,  com 
mon  honesty,  everything,  seemed  to  go  down  in  this 
frantic  struggle  for  the  possession  of  the  precious 
fluid ;  no  one  expressed  surprise,  and  the  cases  in 
which  a  malefactor  was  brought  to  justice,  except 
when  deeds  of  open  violence  occurred,  were  rare. 

Miss  Judith  sat  down  to  think  and  to  decide  upon 
her  wisest  course.  At  first  she  was  disposed  to  send 
down  to  the  village  and  begin  legal  proceedings 
against  the  offender,  but  she  reflected  in  time  that 
if  she  should  consult  a  lawyer,  one  of  the  first  ques 
tions  put  to  her  would  in  all  probability  be  as  to 
the  character  of  her  title  to  the  land  and  stream. 
Another  very  uncomfortable  recollection  confronted 
her.  She  remembered  having  heard  her  own  sur 
veyor  remark  that  water  rights  on  government  land 
were  still  in  a  very  unsettled  and  unsatisfactory  con 
dition  ;  that  it  was  yet  a  matter  of  discussion  as  to 


AN  ALARMING  DISCOVERY  83 

whether  prescriptive  rights  did  or  did  not  apply  in 
such  cases ;  that,  in  short,  nobody,  not  even  the  best 
lawyer  on  the  coast,  was  altogether  sure  about  the 
ramifications  of  water  rights  on  unsurveyed  or  even 
unpatented  lands. 

Mr.  Paul  might  happen  to  be  as  wise  as  she  in 
regard  to  water  laws.  In  fact,  he  might  easily  be  a 
good  deal  wiser,  for  Miss  Judith  had  only  the 
vaguest  idea  of  what  a  prescriptive  right  meant. 
Never  mind !  There  were  moral  ethics  away  and 
above  all  the  legal  codes  ever  framed,  and  no 
right-minded  person  could  resist  an  appeal  to  their 
majesty. 

It  was  a  very  agitated  but  very  resolute  little  per 
son  that  set  the  paper  house  to  rights,  fastened 
doors  and  windows,  descended  the  tree,  and,  with  a 
last  look  at  the  sluice,  set  off  up  the  canon  on  a  tour 
of  investigation. 

Miss  Judith  determined  to  make  this  inspection  a 
thorough  and  searching  one,  proudly  telling  herself 
that  she  was  not  a  woman  to  come  to  any  hasty  con 
clusions.  She  first  went  directly  to  the  stream  at 
the  point  where  the  trail  crossed  it,  and  made  the 
significant  discovery  of  one  small  pool  of  water, 
while  she  found  that  the  bed  of  the  brook,  above 
and  below  this  spot,  was  wet  with  recent  moisture, 
and  plainly  showed  that  within  a  short  time  a  stream 
of  more  or  less  magnitude  had  flowed  along  it. 

Pursuing  her  investigations  below  this  point,  she 
at  last  made  the  startling  discovery  that  not  a  hun 
dred  yards  below  Mr.  Paul's  cabin  the  brook  reap 
peared,  greatly  diminished  from  its  original  proper- 


84  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

tions,  it  is  true,  but  rippling  along  as  demurely  as  if 
it  had  never  lent  itself  to  the  perpetration  of  wrong 
or  injustice. 

"  It  has  plainly  been  diverted  from  its  course,  and 
returned  to  the  stream  bed  at  some  point  along 
here,"  she  decided. 

Upon  arriving  at  this  conclusion,  she  carefully 
retraced  her  steps,  examining  the  banks  closely  on 
either  side,  but  could  find  no  trace  of  the  truant 
stream's  return  except  in  the  vicinity  of  a  boulder 
which  it  would  have  taken  the  strength  of  a  Titan 
to  move,  and  where  it  seemed  to  her  the  first  ap 
pearance  of  a  flow  could  be  detected.  Reaping  no 
thing  but  a  pair  of  damp  feet  from  this  scrutiny,  she 
regained  the  trail,  hot,  disappointed,  and  indignant. 

"  It  would  have  been  so  clear  a  case  and  such 
unanswerable  proof  to  have  faced  him  with,  if  I 
could  only  have  found  the  stolen  water  coming  back 
to  the  brook,  discovered  the  exact  use  he  was  putting 
it  to,  and  followed  it  up  to  the  very  point  where 
it  is  taken,"  she  reasoned. 

Mr.  Paul's  cabin  had  a  deserted  look,  but  she 
went  up  to  it  and  knocked  boldly  upon  the  door. 
No  one  answered.  Standing  there  on  the  pictur 
esque  little  veranda,  with  its  balustrade  of  rich-hued 
manzanita  boughs,  she  looked  down  upon  the  young 
man's  garden  patch  and  noted  its  parched  and 
stunted  appearance ;  but  this  condition  conveyed  no 
argument  to  her  mind. 

Beyond  her  lay  an  unknown  land.  She  had  never 
penetrated  farther  up  the  gulch.  It  required  some 
courage  to  gather  her  skirts  closely  about  her  and  to 


AN  ALARMING   DISCOVERY  85 

follow  the  trail,  here  narrowing  to  a  mere  thread  and 
piercing  the  heart  of  the  chaparral. 

There  were  strange  rustles  in  the  parching  grasses 
and  tangled  weeds.  Squirrels,  interrupted  in  their 
quest  for  toothsome  morsels,  stood  upright  in  the 
brush,  with  tiny  paws  close  hugging  their  spoil, 
viewing  her  with  curious,  shining  eyes,  then  leaped 
down  and  rushed  to  underground  nesting-places. 
Fledgling  songbirds,  untaught  the  dangers  of  fa 
miliar  companionship  with  the  human  race,  hovered 
about  her,  only  fluttering  timidly  ahead  when  she 
softly  put  out  her  hand  to  stroke  their  fresh-hued 
plumage. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  terrible  commotion  at  her 
feet.  A  swarm  of  tiny  brown  birds,  not  unlike  so 
many  soberly  clad  canaries,  slipped  away  in  all  di 
rections.  She  eagerly  stooped  to  imprison  one  of 
the  pretty  creatures  in  her  hand,  when  a  large  bird, 
with  silvery  plumage  and  dove-like  head  proudly 
crested  with  nodding  black  plumes,  tumbled  to  the 
ground  in  her  path,  dragging  a  broken  wing. 

"  Oh,  who  could  have  done  such  a  cruel  thing  !  " 
cried  the  girl,  her  mind  intent  upon  wanton  sports 
men  with  wicked  guns,  as  she  attempted  to  succor 
the  poor,  maimed  creature ;  but  even  as  she  stooped 
tenderly  over  it,  it  whirred  swiftly  through  the  air 
with  unimpaired  strength,  alighting  in  a  neighboring 
tree. 

Amazed  and  interested,  Miss  Judith  waited,  mo 
tionless,  and  presently  from  the  tree  came  a  low, 
melodious  call.  At  its  repetition  all  the  ground 
about  her  became  suddenly  alive  with  wee  brown 


86  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

birdlings,  frantically  hastening,  half  flying,  half 
running,  in  the  direction  of  the  tree. 

The  mother  quail's  ruse  had  saved  her  young. 

Scaly  brown  lizards,  some  of  them  rainbow-tinted, 
flashed  through  the  leaves,  over  the  rocks,  and 
across  the  sand.  With  a  tremor  she  remembered 
that  a  more  dangerous  reptile,  the  cruel  crotalus, 
powerful  and  sinuous,  with  broad-fanged  head,  hid 
his  dingy  checked  shape  near  the  ledges  of  this  alti 
tude  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year.  But  she  pressed 
on  undaunted. 

A  little  further,  and  she  turned  again  into  the 
bed  of  the  stream,  now  so  dry  that  the  crusted  sand 
broke  beneath  the  pressure  of  her  light  foot.  Here, 
somewhat  overgrown  with  brambles,  was  the  head 
of  her  sluice,  and  she  beheld,  for  the  first  time, 
the  really  excellent  manner  in  which  Orlando  had 
performed  his  task,  constructing  a  low,  but  solid 
dam  of  rock,  brush,  and  sand,  below  which  the  ditch 
that  held  the  conduit  broadened  out  in  V-shape,  to 
receive  the  water. 

The  lady  examined  this  closely.  Here  were  at  last 
faint  signs  of  moisture,  probably  from  the  morning 
flow.  The  rocks  alongside  wore  a  damp  look,  as 
if  they  had  been  recently  sprinkled  by  the  cool  cur 
rent  flowing  through  the  sluice.  Yet,  as  far  as  her 
eye  could  command  the  stream  above,  no  water  was 
flowing. 

By  this  time  Miss  Judith  had  evolved  a  very  plain 
theory. 

Instead  of  taking  the  water  out  of  the  stream  pre 
cisely  at  the  point  where  her  sluice  joined  the  latter, 


AN   ALARMING  DISCOVERY  87 

Mr.  Paul  had  evidently  pursued  a  much  more  sen 
sible  course,  and  one  less  compromising  to  himself  in 
its  aspect.  He  had  ditched  or  piped  the  flow  from 
a  point  far  above.  This  placed  him  in  a  very  advan 
tageous  position,  should  he  be  called  upon  to  defend 
the  legality  of  his  act.  Perhaps,  although  he  was 
without  doubt  morally  responsible  and  well  aware  of 
the  existence  of  the  sluice,  he  might  not  be  legally 
cognizant  of  it.  Or  —  dismal  thought !  —  he  might 
be  able  to  swear  that  he  had  begun  to  use  the  water 
above  that  point  at  some  time  previous  to  her  ap 
propriation,  perhaps  in  that  far-away  period  when 
he  had  first  visited  the  land  with  "  his  friend  the 
surveyor,"  —  that  mythical  individual,  whom  she 
detested  without  ever  having  seen. 

This  remarkable  theory  was  confirmed  by  the  fact 
that  the  stream  bed,  which  the  trail  now  frequently 
crossed  and  recrossed,  continued  dry,  with  scarcely 
a  trace  of  moisture. 

As  to  why  the  young  man  should  have  occasion 
ally  turned  the  water  into  her  sluice,  thus  still  doling 
out  to  her  a  small  supply,  the  girl  could  not  deter 
mine. 

Her  attention  was  suddenly  arrested  by  a  steady 
"  Clink !  clink  !  clink  !  "  coming  from  far  up  the 
canon.  She  was  growing  very  tired ;  the  heat,  the 
unaccustomed  exertion,  and  the  rugged  path  along 
which  she  was  climbing  combined  to  overtax  her 
strength.  This  sound  spurred  her  to  fresh  exertion. 

Evidently  the  mysterious  operations  by  which  she 
had  been  deprived  of  her  righteous  property  were 
still  in  active  progress.  Who  could  tell  but  that  the 


88  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

same  hands  that  had  turned  the  water  out  of  its 
course  were  now  building  a  stone  aqueduct  to  convey 
it  altogether  out  of  the  canon,  down  into  the  valley, 
where  the  precious  fluid  was  now  very  nearly  mea 
sured  by  its  weight  in  coin  ? 

With  her  eyes  intent  on  the  narrow  defile  through 
which  she  was  passing,  she  stumbled,  slipped,  and 
stepped  into  a  pool  of  water. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   SUBTERRANEAN   VOLLEY 

WATER  !  Abundant,  flowing  water,  pouring  over 
a  ledge  above  and  escaping  down  the  hillside,  a 
trickling  stream,  finding  its  way  back  into  the  bed  of 
the  brook  and  forming  the  pool  into  which  she  had 
slipped.  It  was  queer-looking  water,  appearing  to 
hold  in  solution  a  mass  of  yellowish  clay,  but  cool 
and  fresh,  as  she  knew  by  the  chill  to  which  she  had 
treated  her  immersed  foot. 

She  pressed  on  eagerly,  noting  with  surprise  that 
as  she  progressed  the  water  grew  muddier,  and  was 
not  flowing  through  its  regular  channel.  The  canon 
contracted  here,  and  a  frowning  cliff,  rising  in  the 
middle  distance,  seemed  to  shut  off  the  sunlight. 
Near  this  cliff  a  well-trodden  path,  newly  made,  as 
evidenced  by  the  freshly  cut  brush  lining  it  on  either 
side,  departed  abruptly  from  the  trail,  appearing  to 
climb  a  low,  wooded  spur,  and  then  disappearing  in 
the  direction  of  the  cliff,  while  the  old  trail,  stony 
and  worn,  led  off  up  a  gulch  which  met  the  main 
canon  at  right  angles.  The  rhythmic  sound  of  metal 
striking  upon  stone  came  from  the  direction  of  this 
new  path. 

A  person  gifted  with  less  resources  of  wit  than 
Miss  Judith  might  have  been  at  a  loss  as  to  which 
path  to  follow.  Not  so  the  young  lady.  She  in- 


90  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

stantly  decided  that  it  would  be  perfectly  useless  to 
take  the  old  trail,  which  led  away  from  what  she 
was  convinced  was  the  scene  of  the  enemy's  opera 
tions.  At  the  same  time  she  did  not  deem  it  either 
prudent  or  discreet  to  go  directly  to  the  spot,  pre 
senting  herself  without  warning,  and  without  the  op 
portunity  of  first  ascertaining  the  exact  state  of  the 
case.  She  therefore  resolved  to  skirt  the  hillside 
at  the  right  until  she  had  reached  the  point  where  it 
merged  in  the  cliff,  and  thus  to  reconnoitre  the  field 
before  advancing  upon  the  enemy's  works. 

Very  noiselessly  and  stealthily  she  therefore 
threaded  her  way  along  the  light  copse  growing  on 
the  stony  hillside.  The  slope  was  moderate  and 
the  growth  meagre,  interspersed  with  an  occasional 
stunted  oak  or  clump  of  manzanita  bushes,  so  that 
she  made  easy  progress,  and  was  rejoiced  to  see  that 
she  was  steadily  advancing  upon  the  point  she 
wished  to  gain. 

When  stones  and  soil  were  at  length  replaced  by 
rugged  rock,  with  only  now  and  then  a  starveling 
juniper  or  pine  taking  root  where  a  bit  of  soil  had 
lodged,  she  found  progress  more  difficult ;  but,  light 
and  sure  of  foot  as  a  fawn,  she  persevered  in  her 
perilous  journey  until  a  bend  of  the  hill  disclosed 
her  objective  point,  and  she  drew  breath  to  find 
herself  holding  to  a  clump  of  purple  asters  on  a 
dizzy  perch,  looking  down  over  an  almost  perpen 
dicular  wall  of  rock  into  a  little  glen  some  forty  feet 
below.  Miss  Judith  had  no  thought  to  give  to  her 
own  transient  bodily  peril.  She  had  attained  the 
goal  toward  which  she  had  been  striving. 


A  SUBTERRANEAN  VOLLEY  91 

She  realized  at  once  that  she  was  looking  down 
upon  the  bed  of  the  little  stream  whose  course  she 
had  been  following,  at  a  place  where  it  emerged 
from  a  lofty  gateway,  of  which  the  cliff  on  which  she 
was  standing  formed  one  of  the  buttresses.  Massive 
steps  hewn  in  the  solid  rock,  and  so  coated  with 
lime  that  they  presented  the  appearance  of  a  majes 
tic  marble  staircase,  here  formed  the  brook  bed,  and 
in  time  of  winter  floods  must  have  produced  a  beau 
tiful  cascade ;  but  now  this  staircase  was  almost  dry, 
save  where  a  mere  trickle  of  water  wound  along  a 
crevice  at  one  side,  and  dripped  over  a  fern-hung 
cavity  below. 

After  leaving  this  dazzling  white  stairway,  the 
course  of  the  stream  appeared  to  be  completely 
dammed  by  a  newly  constructed  deposit  of  clay  and 
broken  rock.  This  dam,  beginning  at  a  point  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  gulch,  crossed  it  on  a  slant 
ing  line,  which  from  her  point  of  view  seemed  at 
first  to  follow  the  bend  of  the  canon,  but  a  little 
distance  below  appeared  to  solidly  unite  with  the 
near  bank.  The  material  of  which  this  iniquitous 
dam  was  constructed  would  seem  to  have  been  taken 
from  the  opposite  cliff,  for  on  top  of  the  dam  she 
saw  a  little  open  car,  and  back  of  this  was  a  black 
hole  into  which  she  could  dimly  see  that  some  sort 
of  tramway  ran. 

But  these  things  were  not  what  most  impressed 
Miss  Judith. 

Out  of  this  black  hole  a  stream  of  water  was  run 
ning,  muddy,  yellowish  water  like  what  she  had  seen 
in  the  stream  bed.  Was  Mrt  Paul  actually  piercing 


92  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

this  bluff  to  intercept  and  capture  the  water,  rather 
than  permit  it  to  flow  through  its  accustomed  chan 
nel  ?  How  deep  and  shameful  a  conspiracy  against 
her  rights ! 

While  Miss  Judith  was  perfectly  sure  of  her  con 
clusions,  she  was  not  so  certain  of  her  premises.  She 
wisely  decided  to  quietly  view  this  interesting  scene, 
and  to  await  developments. 

She  could  still  hear  the  peculiar  clinking  sound 
that  had  attracted  her  attention  far  down  the  canon, 
but  although  it  seemed  to  come  from  the  black  hole 
in  the  ledge  across  the  way,  and  was  therefore  much 
nearer  her  than  when  she  first  heard  it,  it  now 
sounded  muffled  and  distant.  This  might  possibly 
be  due,  she  thought,  to  her  own  change  of  position 
and  the  intervention  of  the  rocky  mass  below. 

Save  for  this  one  mysterious  sound  it  was  now 
very  still  in  the  canon.  All  the  hills  around  her 
were  barren  and  rocky,  with  occasional  scraggy  trees 
or  bushes.  Once  she  thought  she  saw  a  pair  of 
antlers  raised  from  a  distant  copse.  A  blue  jay  flew 
into  a  neighboring  thorn-bush  and  eyed  her  medita 
tively,  evidently  speculating  as  to  what  new  and 
strange  manner  of  bird  was  clinging  to  the  face  of 
the  cliff,  and  presently  began  to  taunt  her  with  his 
saucy  cry.  A  tiny  blue  lizard  crept  out  of  a  crevice 
in  the  rock  beside  her  and  came  directly  toward  her 
hand.  She  snapped  off  one  of  the  purple  asters  and 
scratched  his  back  with  its  stem,  while  he  blinked 
his  queer  little  eyes  at  her  in  grateful  acknowledg 
ment. 

There  were  voices  down  the  canon,  and  she  real- 


A  SUBTERRANEAN   VOLLEY  93 

ized  in  vexation  that  travelers  were  coming  up  the 
trail.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  drew,  till  she  saw  two 
figures  riding  horses  and  driving  burros  laden  with 
heavy  packs.  She  recognized  the  two  men.  The 
elder  was  an  aged  pioneer,  who  had  the  reputation 
of  being  the  first  settler  across  the  range.  The 
youth  he  had  in  tow  was  a  young  Englishman, 
dressed  in  picturesque  cowboy  style,  and  with  a  car 
tridge  belt  around  his  waist,  trying  to  imagine  him 
self  a  full-blown  desperado  on  the  strength  of  his 
recent  acquisition  of  a  small  cattle  range  in  the  high 
sierras.  In  a  year  or  two  he  would  be  wiser. 

The  old  man  was  acquainted  with  Mr.  Paul,  hav 
ing  frequently  camped  at  his  cabin  for  the  night. 
They  stopped  at  the  point  where  the  path  left  the 
trail. 

"  Now  you  just  wait  here,"  she  heard  the  old 
man  say.  "  I  've  a  friend  working  over  here,  and 
I  want  to  see  how  he  's  getting  on." 

He  dismounted  slowly  and  laboriously,  and  climbed 
the  low  ridge  separating  them  from  the  dam,  while 
his  companion  waited  in  aristocratic  tolerance. 

"Mr.  Paul!  Mr.  Paul!  How  are  you?"  the 
old  man  shouted,  approaching  the  hole  in  the  bluff. 

"  Coming  !  "  sounded  a  full  voice  from  its  depths. 

The  clinking  stopped,  and  in  a  few  moments  Mr. 
Paul  came  in  sight,  greeting  the  old  man  civilly. 

"  I  only  stopped  a  minute  to  see  how  you  're  get 
ting  on,"  explained  the  aged  pioneer. 

Miss  Judith,  deliberately  eavesdropping,  learned 
with  helpless  anger  that  these  operations,  of  which 
she  had  not  the  slightest  inkling  until  her  own  en- 


94  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

terprise  led  her  to  discover  them,  must  have  been 
generally  known  and  frankly  discussed. 

"Making  fair  progress,  as  you  see,"  said  Mr. 
Paul.  "  I  took  your  advice  and  went  in  this  side 
instead  of  the  other." 

"  How  far  you  in  ?  " 

"  About  fifty  feet." 

"  What  kind  of  rock  ?  " 

"  A  little  of  all  kinds,  I  should  say,"  waving  his 
hand  toward  the  dam  on  whose  edge  they  were 
standing.  "  Sandstone,  a  little  shale  and  clay,  but 
for  the  most  part  this  fine-grained  blue  rock  you  see 
all  around  here." 

The  old  man,  miner  and  prospector  of  '49,  stooped 
and  possessed  himself  of  a  fragment  of  the  substance 
indicated. 

"  Limestone  !  "  he  said  laconically.  "  Harder  'n 
granite.  Tough  work  getting  it  out,  you  bet  you  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  succeed  in  making  about  two  inches  a  day," 
returned  Mr.  Paul,  and  both  men  laughed. 

"  What 's  your  prospects  ?  " 

"  I  'm  sure  I  have  n't  experience  enough  to 
judge,"  returned  the  young  man,  plainly  a  little 
restless  over  the  time  he  was  losing.  "  It 's  slow 
work." 

"  How  much  water  you  got  ?  "  persisted  the  ques 
tioner. 

"  I  have  n't  measured  it.  A  matter  of  an  inch,  I 
fancy.  But  I  'm  going  to  have  it,  if  I  go  through 
the  range  for  it." 

"  That 's  right.  Stick  to  it.  Land  in  this  coun 
try  's  no  good  without  water.  Well,  so  long  !  "  and 


A  SUBTERRANEAN  VOLLEY  95 

the  old  man  departed,  while  Mr.  Paul  again  disap 
peared  into  the  dark  hole. 

Not  a  word  about  her  rights,  or  the  wicked  depri 
vation  to  which  she  was  being  subjected,  the  injury 
to  her  property,  her  blighted  berries  and  parching 
garden  !  How  hard-hearted  men  could  be  when  it 
came  to  matters  of  gain !  Miss  Judith  clenched  her 
hands  in  impotent  rage. 

The  noise  in  the  bowels  of  the  bluff  was  resumed 
for  a  little  time,  and  then  abruptly  ceased.  Mr. 
Paul  again  came  out,  and  going  to  a  wooden  box 
standing  in  a  cranny  of  the  rocks  and  covered  with 
a  gunny  sack,  took  out  some  objects  that  looked  like 
three  long  wax  candles  and  a  coil  of  heavy  cord.  He 
cut  off  a  few  feet  of  the  latter,  and,  without  lighting 
a  candle,  again  entered  the  hole  and  disappeared 
from  sight.  Miss  Judith  concluded  that  the  candle 
by  the  light  of  which  he  had  been  working  must 
have  gone  out ;  but  she  wondered  very  much  that  he 
should  take  three  at  a  time,  and  that  he  did  not  light 
one  before  entering  the  dark  passage. 

Imagine  her  surprise,  then,  while  she  was  gazing 
mystified  upon  the  scene,  at  seeing  Mr.  Paul,  breath 
less  and  hatless,  come  running  out  of  the  black  hole 
in  the  ledge,  and,  leaping  off  the  dam  and  turning 
upstream,  advance  directly  towards  the  ledge  upon 
which  she  had  so  perilous  a  foothold. 

What  could  be  the  matter  ?  Could  he  have  un 
earthed  some  serpents'  nest  in  the  course  of  his  in 
iquitous  undertaking?  Was  the  dark  hole  in  the 
ground  the  chosen  lair  of  some  wild  beast  which  was 
about  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  him,  or  was  he  flee- 


96  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

ing  from  his  own  uneasy  conscience,  that  haunting 
Nemesis  of  evil-doers,  which  in  the  case  of  this 
young  rnan  was  somehow  interwoven  with  the  mystic 
gloom  of  the  black  curtain  ?  What  would  follow  ? 

In  cold-blooded  curiosity  she  leaned  forward  to 
see.  Mr.  Paul  was  quietly  standing  at  the  foot  of 
the  cliff  on  which  she  was  perched,  one  arm  braced 
against  the  rock.  She  could  hear  his  quick,  panting 
breath,  but  his  attitude  told  only  of  patient  waiting, 
while  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  dark  opening,  from 
which  no  pursuer  had  yet  emerged. 

The  next  instant  there  came  a  terrific  detonation, 
and  the  whole  mountain-side  seemed  to  tremble. 
Miss  Judith,  dizzy  and  frightened,  lost  her  balance, 
and  clutched  wildly  at  the  purple  asters,  which 
were  uprooted  in  her  hand. 

Mr.  Paul  heard  a  frightened  little  cry  ring  out 
above  his  head,  a  bunch  of  purple  asters  fell  at  his 
feet,  and  looking  up,  he  saw  the  slight  figure  slip 
ping  down  the  mountain  side  upon  the  jagged  rocks 
below. 


CHAPTER  XII 
MR.   PAUL  TO  THE  RESCUE 

MR.  PAUL  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance.  The 
sandstone,  presenting  an  almost  vertical  wall  and 
offering  no  chance  for  so  much  as  a  hand-hold,  made 
it  impossible  for  him  to  reach  her  from  below. 

"  Try  to  hold  on  until  I  can  run  around  and  get 
up  above  you  and  lower  a  rope !  "  he  called. 

She  had  caught  the  thorny  branch  of  a  mountain 
lilac,  but  the  bough  had  bent  like  a  willow,  and  was 
slipping  from  her  grasp. 

"  I  can't.  There 's  nothing  —  to  hold  to.  I  'm 
coming ! " 

The  young  man  sprang  to  catch  her  in  his  arms, 
but  only  succeeded  in  partially  breaking  the  force 
of  her  fall. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously,  seeing  that 
she  reeled  and  would  have  fallen  had  it  not  been  for 
his  supporting  arm. 

"  I  'm  alive !  "  was  the  curt  reply. 

Miss  Judith  released  herself,  stood  erect  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  dropped  suddenly  down,  composing  her 
self  as  comfortably  as  she  could  upon  a  fallen  slab 
of  sandstone.  Her  face  was  pale,  but  Mr.  Paul's 
was  whiter. 

"  Thank  God  you  're  not  killed  !  "  he  ejaculated, 
mopping  his  forehead  with  a  white  handkerchief, 


98  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

whose  fine  texture  repudiated  the  quality  of  its 
laundrying. 

"  What  were  you  up  on  that  ledge  for  ?  "  he  de 
manded  sternly.  "Don't  you  know  that  you 
narrowly  escaped  being  killed,  —  crushed  on  these 
rocks,  when  you  fell  ?  " 

"I  —  I  'd  like  to  know  what  you  're  doing  to  my 
mountain !  "  retorted  the  girl,  trying  to  steady  her 
voice,  and  looking  very  forbidding  and  unapproach 
able. 

"It  was  a  prodigious  blast.  That  rock  is  like 
adamant.  I  made  up  my  mind  I  'd  rip  it  out  if  the 
whole  mountain  had  to  go.  Why  did  n't  you  let  me 
know  you  were  up  here  ?  How  could  I  be  expected 
to  know  any  one  was  about  ?  " 

His  reproachful  tone,  the  absurd  fact  that  this 
interloper  upon  her  own  land  should  presume  to 
take  her  to  task  for  having  gone  whither  she  pleased 
over  it,  made  the  young  lady  hot  with  resentment. 

"  I  think  it  was  high  time  I  should  be  about,"  she 
replied  with  dignity.  "  I  'm  making  a  tour  of  in 
spection  of  my  property.  Will  you  have  the  good 
ness  to  explain  what  you  are  doing  ?  " 

"  Doing !  Why,  can't  you  see  for  yourself  ?  Don't 
you  understand?  I  'm  after  water." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it." 

What  scorn  and  rancor  can  be  compressed  into  a 
little  tinkling  laugh !  The  man  was  aghast  at  the 
words  and  the  laugh  and  the  fierce  look  that  accom 
panied  them. 

"  I  should  think  you  might  be  satisfied  with  what 
you  have  already  taken,"  said  Miss  Judith. 


MR.  PAUL  TO  THE  RESCUE  99 

"  Already ! " 

"Yes,  already.  My  poor  berries  are  parching 
and  drying  up  in  the  sun  below.  But  there  seems 
to  be  no  lack  of  water  up  here." 

He  was  beginning  to  understand. 

"  And  you  think  I  have  been  deliberately  robbing 
you  of  your  water,  —  the  water  you  sluiced  down  to 
your  berry  patch  ?  " 

She  did  not  quite  like  the  cold  glint  of  his  eye, 
nor  the  measured  way  in  which  he  spoke.  He  looked 
dangerous.  But  she  stood  her  ground  sturdily. 

"  What  else  can  I  think,  when  my  plants  are  dry, 
and  there  is  so  much  water  —  so  much  and  to  spare 
—  up  here?"  and  she  waved  her  hand  toward  the 
stream  that  gurgled  out  of  the  black  hole  in  the 
rock,  about  which  a  cloud  of  smoke  now  hovered, 
like  a  wreath  of  mist. 

"And  the  brook  below.  In  what  condition  did 
you  find  it  when  you  came  up?"  persisted  her 
inquisitor. 

"  Dry.  Damp,  but  with  no  water  standing,  though 
I  found  running  water  below  your  cabin,"  —  laying 
a  very  noticeable  stress  on  the  word  '  below.'  "  Of 
course  I  don't  know  where  you  have  taken  the  water, 
or  what  you  mean  to  do  with  it,  but  it  stands  to 
reason  "  — 

She  stopped,  confused.  It  suddenly  occurred  to 
her  that  her  theory  of  Mr.  Paul's  crime  did  not 
exactly  conform  to  any  course  of  reasoning  she  could 
at  that  moment  devise. 

"  Is  your  sluice  dry  all  the  time  ?  Have  you  had 
no  water  in  it  at  any  time  since  the  water  failed  ?  " 


100  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  Sometimes,  in  the  morning  and  at  night,  a  little 
water  comes  down,  just  enough  to  water  my  chickens 
and  give  me  a  trifle  for  indoor  use.  It  amounts  to 
nothing  for  my  berries.  The  miserable  little  allow 
ance  that  you  have  permitted  to  flow  would  not  be 
as  much  to  them  as  a  single  swallow  to  a  person 
dying  of  thirst." 

"I'm  sorry,  Miss  Judith,  that  I  haven't  been 
able  to  make  the  '  miserable  little  allowance '  more 
generous.  It  is  quite  plain  to  me  that  you  are 
not  familiar  with  the  summer  habits  of  California 
streams." 

"  I  have  lived  in  California  all  my  life,"  she  re 
torted. 

"  Even  that  might  not  make  you  wise  about  the 
sources  and  caprices  of  these  treacherous  streams, 
which,  when  the  surface-flow  fails  in  a  dry  season, 
sink  and  disappear  and  appear  again  in  the  most 
puzzling  fashion.  If  you  had  taken  some  pains  to 
examine  the  geological  formation  of  the  brook  bed 
as  you  came  along,  you  would  have  found  above 
your  sluice  a  shale  formation,  which  is  like  a  sieve 
for  holding  water  in  the  dry  season." 

"  But  the  water  that  comes  down  nights  and 
mornings  ?  "  persisted  Miss  Judith  skeptically. 

Mr.  Paul  would  plainly  have  preferred  not  to 
have  this  point  pressed. 

"  After  a  hard  day's  work  here  in  my  tunnel,"  he 
explained  diffidently,  "  where  I  hope  to  develop 
water  enough  to  irrigate  the  whole  of  my  tillable 
land,  including  the  section  you  are  now  occupying, 
I  find  that  to  cany  a  dozen  buckets  down  to  the 


MR.   PAUL  TO  THE  RESCUE  101 

sluice  is  about  all  the  exertion  I  can  afford,  even  for 
the  sake  of  my  thriving  berry  patch." 

Any  feeling  of  gratitude  arising  from  the  dis 
covery  that  she  had  been  indebted  to  the  personal 
exertions  of  her  enemy  for  every  drop  of  water  she 
had  received  for  a  couple  of  weeks  past  was  wholly 
offset  by  this  insolent  assumption  of  proprietorship 
over  her  cherished  berry  patch. 

The  lady  gave  an  impatient  gesture  and  turned  her 
head  aside,  indicating  that  this  foolish  persistence 
in  asserting  his  claim  to  her  domain  was  a  matter 
wholly  beneath  discussion. 

"  And  I  must  add,"  continued  Mr.  Paul,  "  that 
this  accusation  comes  with  a  singular  grace  from  the 
lady  who,  without  an  hour's  warning,  last  fall  appro 
priated  every  drop  of  water  in  this  stream,  leaving 
my  stock  and  myself  to  perish  for  want  of  water, 
for  aught  she  cared." 

This  may  seem  an  extravagant  manner  of  stating 
the  case,  but  those  who  have  lived  in  districts  where 
the  water  supply  is  insufficient,  and  who  have  wit 
nessed  the  shocking  consequences  incident  to  its 
deprivation,  can  appreciate  the  tragedy  of  its  loss. 
"  As  soon  shut  off  a  man's  sunlight  as  his  water !  " 
is  a  common  saying  in  these  parts. 

"Mr.  Paul!" 

Miss  Judith  faced  him,  her  eyes  ablaze,  her  voice 
trembling  with  indignation.  "  How  dare  you  make 
such  a  statement !  How  can  you  look  me  in  the 
eye,  and  accuse  me  of  such  an  awful  thing? " 

"  You  certainly  did  it,  and  did  n't  hesitate  to 
avow  it  then,"  replied  the  young  man,  confounded 


102  THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

by  the  girl's  extraordinary  outburst.  "When  I 
went  down  to  see  you,  hoping  to  arrive  at  some 
compromise,  —  for  it  was  a  serious  dilemma  for  me, 
I  can  assure  you !  —  you  disdained  to  discuss  the 
question  at  all,  but  frankly  assumed  the  whole 
responsibility  of  the  affair.  You  declared  your  pro 
prietorship  to  all  the  water  in  the  stream,  and  vowed 
you  were  going  to  water  your  fruit  with  it  and  take 
the  first  prize  on  your  berries  at  the  county  fair,  or 
something  of  the  sort.  I  remember  the  substance 
better  than  the  exact  verbiage." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  persuade  me  that  when  Orlando 
turned  the  water  into  my  little  sluice,  it  took  all  the 
water  in  that  big,  broad  stream?  "  asked  Miss  Judith 
caustically. 

"It  takes  quite  a  big,  broad  stream,  flowing 
quietly  along  its  bed,  to  fill  a  sluice  with  a  capacity 
of  some  half  dozen  inches  and  with  a  fall  of  one 
foot  in  ten,  to  say  nothing  of  the  ditch  along  which 
it  was  laid,"  replied  Mr.  Paul  indifferently.  "  But 
that 's  all  over  and  done  with.  I  found  a  spring  in 
a  gully  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  where  I  contrived 
to  water  my  horse  and  obtain  enough  to  carry  me 
along  until  the  rains  came.  I  did  n't  mean  to  get 
caught  again  this  season,  however." 

Miss  Judith  listened,  with  a  knitted  brow,  convic 
tion  growing  within  her. 

"  That  awful  boy !  "  she  said.  "  It  must  have 
been  all  planned  out  by  Orlando." 

"  Oh,  don't  blame  the  boy.  I  did  n't  mean  to  stir 
up  any  feeling  by  referring  to  what  is  all  gone 
by,"  said  Mr.  Paul  pacifically. 


MR.   PAUL  TO   THE   RESCUE  103 

"  But  it  is  n't  gone  by.  It  never  will  be  gone  by. 
You  will  never  believe  that  I  did  n't  intend  to  do 
it,  that  I  did  n't  know  all  the  water  had  been  taken. 
You  will  never  credit  that  until  this  minute  I 
had  n't  the  slightest  idea  of  what  you  referred  to 
that  day  when  you  rode  up  to  the  house  and  ques 
tioned  me  about  my  sluice." 

Mr.  Paul  did  not  speak.  His  chill  manner  and 
attitude  were  so  expressive  that  the  girl  was 
wounded  to  the  quick. 

"  You  did  n't  explain  a  single  word,"  she  went  on 
desperately.  "You  only  asked  if  the  water  had 
been  taken  from  the  stream  by  my  instructions,  — 
not  '  all  the  water,'  mind  you !  You  never  said  a 
word  about  that.  And  I  told  you,  truthfully,  that 
it  had,  wondering  very  much  that  you  should  come 
and  ask  such  questions,  or  begrudge  me  a  small 
share  of  such  a  splendid  flow.  And  then  you 
asked  what  you  were  to  understand  by  that,  and 
you  spoke  in  such  a  very  unpleasant  way  that  I  felt 
quite  justified  in  asserting  my  title  over  again  to 
the  disputed  territory  and  all  there  was  in  it." 

Again  there  was  silence  between  them ;  and  again 
it  was  broken  by  Miss  Judith,  in  a  sad  little  voice. 

"  You  may  believe  what  you  like,"  she  said.  "  I 
am  sorry  I  have  attempted  to  screen  myself.  If 
honor  and  truth  cannot  stand  without  the  poor 
defense  of  words,  one  would  better  not  lay  claim  to 
them." 

She  started  to  rise  and  beat  a  dignified  retreat, 
but  no  sooner  did  she  attempt  to  bear  her  weight 
upon  her  feet  than  she  turned  very  pale,  and 
dropped  again  to  a  sitting  posture. 


104  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

It  was  odd  what  keen  powers  of  observation  Mr. 
Paul  possessed.  He  was  listlessly  leaning  against 
the  ledge,  despoiling  one  of  a  bunch  of  purple 
asters  of  its  petals,  but  this  movement  brought  him 
instantly  to  Miss  Judith's  side. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  You  have  hurt  your  foot." 

"  It  is  nothing.  A  little  twist  as  I  slipped  down. 
It  will  be  better  in  a  moment.  Do  they  know, 
down  in  the  valley,  about  the  water?"  as  she 
remembered  the  inquiry  that  had  one  day  been  put 
to  her  in  the  village  store,  and  the  odd  remarks  that 
had  followed. 

"I  think  Orlando  took  pains  that  they  should 
know,"  returned  Mr.  Paul. 

"  Oh,  what  must  they  think  of  me  ?  " 

"From  what  I  have  heard,  you  are  generally 
considered  a  very  smart  woman,  and  I  am  supposed 
to  have  only  met  my  just  deserts.  Sympathy  is 
always  with  the  woman  in  such  a  case.  But  about 
the  foot.  These  '  little  twists '  are  sometimes  serious 
things.  I  had  a  trifling  hurt  of  the  kind  once  while 
climbing  the  Matterhorn,  and  paid  for  it  with  three 
months'  helplessness.  May  I  help  you  to  remove 
the  shoe?" 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  leave  me  alone,  Mr.  Paul. 
It  does  not  concern  you  in  the  least." 

She  sat  with  the  skirt  of  her  blue  serge  gown 
firmly  drawn  about  her  feet.  The  man  could  tell 
by  the  manner  in  which  she  compressed  her  lips, 
and  by  her  alternate  flushing  and  paling,  that  she 
was  suffering  severe  physical  pain. 

"  It  concerns  me  so  much  that  I  shall  not  leave 


MR.   PAUL  TO   THE   RESCUE  105 

you  until  I  have  learned  the  extent  of  your  injury," 
he  replied  with  decision. 

"After  doubting  my  word,  and  accusing  me  of 
so  base  an  act,  Mr.  Paul,  how  could  you  expect  me 
to  accept  any  further  service  from  you,  —  even  if  I 
were  dying  ?  " 

"  Doubting  your  word !  Miss  Judith,  here  I  have 
been  standing  for  the  past  five  minutes,  denouncing 
my  own  infernal  stupidity  in  not  having  fully 
explained  the  water  situation  to  you  that  time ;  at 
having  for  a  moment  accredited  you  with  such 
vindictiveness.  I  'm  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  over 
the  whole  affair.  Are  you  going  to  punish  me 
further  by  making  me  responsible  for  the  neglect  of 
your  injured  foot  ?  " 

Honest  contrition  was  in  face  and  voice.  She 
viewed  him  for  a  moment,  her  head  poised  on  one 
side  like  a  bird's,  doubtful,  questioning.  Another 
twinge  brought  a  little  grimace  of  pain  to  her  face, 
and  decided  her. 

Meekly  she  put  out  the  injured  foot  and  attempted 
to  undo  the  shoe-lacings,  leaning  back  in  sudden 
faintness  and  surrendering  the  task.  Mr.  Paul  re 
moved  the  coverings  with  a  surgeon's  deft  and 
indifferent  touch.  If  he  observed  the  faultless  lines 
of  the  little  pink-tinted  foot  that  was  at  length 
bared,  he  betrayed  no  sentiment  concerning  it,  but 
manipulated  the  ankle  with  a  cold-blooded  interest 
that  seemed  to  the  suffering  girl  little  short  of 
savagery. 

The  foot  hung  very  limp. 

"  Try  to  move  it  now,"  said  Mr.  Paul. 


106  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

Miss  Judith  endeavored  to  obey  him,  but  was 
shocked  to  find  that  she  no  longer  seemed  to  have 
any  control  over  joints  or  muscles. 

Mr.  Paul  passed  his  fingers  lightly  along  the 
limb,  pausing  at  a  point  some  two  inches  above  the 
ankle  joint,  where  an  ugly  ridge,  marked  with  a 
sullen  red  swelling,  was  conspicuous. 

He  looked  grave  as  he  concluded  his  examina 
tion. 

"  I  'm  afraid  it 's  broken,"  he  said,  easing  it  to 
the  ground  with  exceeding  care.  "Just  what  sort 
of  a  fracture  it  is,  or  how  serious,  I  cannot  tell. 
You  must  have  surgical  aid.  Meantime  the  best  I 
can  do  is  to  apply  a  little  water  to  check  inflamma 
tion." 

He  tore  some  strips  from  a  piece  of  soft  cloth 
hanging  at  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel,  and  designed 
for  the  ignoble  purpose  of  swabbing  out  the  holes 
made  by  his  drills,  dipped  these  in  the  gurgling 
stream,  and  skillfully  bandaged  the  ankle,  then 
waited  while  she  drew  on  her  stocking.  An  attempt 
to  put  on  the  shoe  called  forth  an  exclamation  of 
pain. 

"  I  would  n't  draw  anything  tightly  about  it  if  I 
were  you,"  he  said.  "  Are  you  ready  ?  Come !  " 

Before  she  could  protest,  he  had  lifted  her  like  a 
child,  and  was  carrying  her  down  the  trail,  —  the 
path  that  his  own  feet  had  worn,  going  to  and  from 
the  hard  toil  that  he  had  undertaken  for  both  their 
sakes.  She  knew  it  now.  There  was  no  need  for 
him  to  tell  her  that  with  every  blow  of  the  pick  and 
hammer  he  had  remembered  her  need,  and  thought 


MR.  PAUL  TO  THE  RESCUE  107 

joyfully  of  the  relief  his  work  would  bring  her. 
Upborne  in  these  strong  arms,  held  closely  to  his 
breast,  all  pain  seemed  to  leave  the  girl,  and  the 
world's  burdens  slipped  away.  Was  it  fancy,  or 
did  he  for  an  instant  press  his  dark  bearded  face 
against  her  hair,  whispering,  — 

"  Now  that  I  have  you  a  fast  prisoner,  my  little 
foewoman,  I  am  minded  never  to  let  you  go ! " 

Like  one  in  a  happy,  wordless  dream,  she 
resigned  herself  to  his  care.  The  western  hills 
frowned  darkly  upon  them,  shutting  out  the  glad 
rays  of  the  setting  sun  which  glorified  the  topmost 
peaks.  Hidden  creatures  stirred  in  the  copse  around, 
and  a  bird,  daintily  sipping  a  crystal  draught  from 
the  plashing  water,  soared  into  the  air  and  thrilled 
its  song  of  thankfulness  from  a  tree-top. 

As  they  approached  the  cabin,  Miss  Judith  noticed 
that  the  young  man's  step,  at  first  light  and  spring 
ing,  grew  heavy  and  lagging,  and  she  felt  the  heav 
ing  of  his  chest  as  he  labored  along  the  path.  A 
rustic  chair  stood  on  the  veranda  before  his  door, 
and  he  placed  her  in  it.  As  he  rose,  his  watch-chain 
became  entangled  in  her  clothing,  and  a  small  open 
locket,  worn  as  a  charm,  tumbled  into  her  lap. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MISS  JUDITH   FEELS  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE   BLACK 
CURTAIN 

Miss  JUDITH  looked  down  upon  the  locket  and 
saw  the  face  of  a  woman,  a  young,  lovely  face,  with 
a  high  serenity  upon  it,  whose  eyes  seemed  to  look 
into  her  own  with  a  noble  trustfulness. 

He  reached  out  his  hand  to  reclaim  it. 

"  The  dearest  woman  in  all  the  world  !  "  he  said 
with  feeling.  "  Some  day  I  hope  you  may  know 
her." 

Miss  Judith  did  not  answer.  She  lay  back  in  the 
chair  with  closed  eyes,  trying  to  think,  wondering 
what  this  hurt  was,  which  went  so  much  deeper  than 
any  mere  physical  pang. 

"  Is  the  ankle  painful  ?  "  asked  the  young  man. 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes." 

"  It  has  seemed  rather  nice  to  be  cut  off  from  the 
world,  but  now  I  wish  we  were  united  with  it  by  a 
telephone  wire.  As  it  is,  it  will  be  some  little  time 
before  you  can  have  relief.  Do  you  think  you  can 
be  patient  ?  " 

"  I  am  always  patient,"  said  Miss  Judith,  rebuking 
him.  . 

"  Well  and  good.  Of  course  you  will  have  to  stay 
here  for  the  present,"  speaking  very  positively,  and 
drawing  a  long  breath. 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN     109 

"  I  cannot.     I  must  go  home  this  moment." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  get  any  further  ?  " 

A  tart  little  tongue  was  about  to  accuse  him  of 
taking  a  mean  advantage  of  her  helplessness,  in  thus 
making  her  a  prisoner,  but  reflection  checked  the 
speech. 

"  I  don't  think  you  can  walk,"  pursued  her  matter- 
of-fact  neighbor ;  "  and  I  am  sure  I  cannot  carry  you 
a  step  farther.  When  I  picked  you  up,  I  thought 
you  no  heavier  than  a  feather,  but  now  I  am  positive 
you  weigh  a  ton." 

Mr.  Paul  laughed  a  deep,  mellow  laugh,  good  to 
hear. 

"  That  alters  the  case,"  she  said  wearily. 

"  This  being  the  case,"  he  went  on,  "  we  shall 
have  to  make  the  best  of  circumstances." 

"  I  suppose  we  shall,"  said  the  girl  ruefully. 

"  I  will  make  you  as  comfortable  as  I  know 
how  "  — 

«  Oh,  I  don't  doubt  it." 

This  was  said  impetuously,  for  pain  was  returning 
to  the  ankle.  Her  host  shrugged  his  shoulders  with 
a  smile  which  she  recalled  later  on,  when  she  realized 
the  brusqueness  of  her  speech.  At  the  time  she  was 
in  silent  revolt  against  being  forced,  even  for  a  night, 
to  exchange  the  dainty  comforts  of  her  paper  house 
for  the  rude  surroundings  of  a  ranchman's  cabin. 

"  But  there  are  my  dog  and  bird.  The  nights  are 
cold.  He  is  delicate  and  the  bird  has  to  be  covered. 
And  my  cow  and  my  chickens." 

"  First  your  ankle  demands  attention.  I  will  ride 
down  to  the  Montrose  place  and  telephone  for  Dr. 


110  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

Graham.  Then  I  will  come  back  to  your  cottage, 
and  if  you  will  not  mind  being  left  alone  for  a  little 
while,  biding  the  surgeon's  coming,  I  will  cover  the 
bird,  and  feed  the  chickens,  and  milk  the  cow,  —  I 
think  I  see  her  in  my  cabbage  patch  now." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Paul,  I  am  so  sorry." 

"  Never  mind !  They  will  not  hurt  her.  She  is 
not  unaccustomed  to  the  diet." 

With  this  parting  shot  Mr.  Paul  disappeared,  soon 
returning  with  the  truant  Sairy  Ann,  securing  her 
to  a  tree. 

"  I  must  look  up  my  horse,  now.  He  seems  to 
have  strayed  beyond  limits,  perhaps  to  take  a  repri 
sal  on  your  strawberry  patch,"  said  the  young  man 
cheerfully.  "  But  I  must  help  you  inside  the  cabin. 
The  nights  are  growing  chill." 

He  opened  the  door,  and  lifted  her  chair  over  the 
sill,  placing  it,  as  she  could  dimly  see,  beside  a  table. 
Striking  a  match,  he  turned  up  the  wick  of  a  heavy 
antique  lamp  of  hammered  brass. 

"  Let  me  lift  your  foot  and  place  it  on  this  chair. 
Are  you  sure  that  is  a  comfortable  position  ?  And 
you  may  be  cold  before  I  return." 

Bringing  a  thick  traveling-robe,  he  wrapped  its 
fleecy  folds  around  her,  then  stood  looking  down 
upon  her,  silently  challenging  her  to  meet  his  gaze. 

"  Until  I  return,  I  make  you  mistress  of  all  I  pos 
sess  —  except  what  lies  behind  the  black  curtain  !  " 
he  added,  as  if  in  sober  afterthought. 

She  obstinately  closed  her  eyes,  opening  them 
again  in  shocked  surprise  as  she  felt  a  gentle  touch 
upon  her  forehead,  but  the  door  was  closing  behind 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN     111 

her  host,  and  she  heard  his  firm  step  on  the  garden 
path.  * 

Lying  back  in  the  easy-chair,  Miss  Judith  again 
wondered  if  she  were  in  a  dream. 

She  found  herself,  it  is  true,  in  the  ranchman's 
cabin  of  her  fancy.  The  chinks  between  the  rough- 
hewn  logs  of  the  walls  were  plastered  with  clay,  and 
the  big  fireplace  which  yawned  at  the  end  of  the 
great  room  made  no  attempt  to  disguise  its  clumsy 
structure  of  stone  and  adobe,  and  opened  upon  a 
hearth  of  rough  sandstone  flags.  But  the  furnish 
ings  of  this  rough  abode  were  of  Oriental  magnifi 
cence. 

Rare  tapestries  hung  on  the  walls,  superb  Turk 
ish  rugs  were  flung  broadcast  upon  chairs  and 
couches,  yellowed  ivory  carvings  alternated  with 
rare  bronzes  and  statuettes  in  the  rude  niches  of  the 
fireplace.  A  flagon  of  old  Venetian  glass,  pink  and 
white,  wrought  in  the  semblance  of  a  rose-vine,  stood 
on  a  sideboard,  with  a  cup  and  saucer  of  fragile 
Sevres  beside  it.  Throughout  the  room  were  count 
less  evidences  of  a  refined  taste  and  a  free  purse. 
Was  it  the  magic  purse  of  Mr.  Paul's  fanciful  tale  ? 

Although  a  certain  quaint  order  was  noticeable 
throughout  the  apartment,  things  were  put  to  strange 
uses.  A  cloissone  vase  was  degraded  to  a  dust-brush 
holder.  A  pair  of  well-worn  slippers  poised  on  either 
shoulder  of  a  bronze  Chinese  god,  a  jolly  little  figure, 
with  eyes  that  seemed  to  twinkle  in  the  dim  half- 
light.  A  hammer  and  saw  were  hung  on  either  arm 
of  an  East  Indian  throne-chair,  gorgeous  in  scarlet 
and  gilt ;  before  a  door  that  opened  into  another 


112  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

room  a  Bengal  tiger's  skin  formed  a  clumsy  and 
barbaric  portiere. 

Here  and  there  an  unframed  etching  or  water- 
color  could  be  seen,  and  a  dusty  portfolio  with 
knotted  strings  leaned  against  the  wall;  but,  with 
all  its  wealth  of  ornament,  the  house  was  singularly 
lacking  in  pictures. 

A  number  of  late  magazines  were  scattered  over 
the  table  beside  which  he  had  placed  her  chair.  She 
took  up  one  after  another,  and  found  each  in  the 
same  condition,  with  uncut  pages,  and  bearing  no 
evidences  of  having  been  handled.  Several  late 
novels  were  idly  flung  beside  them,  but  she  felt  con 
vinced  that  they,  like  the  magazines,  were  unread, 
for  the  leaves  clung  together  like  those  of  books 
fresh  from  the  press.  In  a  pocket  on  the  wall  were 
countless  newspapers,  some  with  their  wrappers  torn 
off,  but  all  lying  in  their  original  folds. 

Upon  the  table  stood  a  frame  of  carved  silver,  and 
in  it  was  a  portrait.  She  took  it  in  her  hand.  It 
was  an  excellent  specimen  of  the  recently  revived 
art  of  daguerreotypy,  and  the  subject  was  the  woman 
of  the  locket. 

The  lady  was  in  evening-dress,  clad  in  the  extreme 
of  modern  fashion,  with  a  low  bodice  disclosing  a 
slender,  columnar  neck  and  shapely  shoulders,  full, 
puffed  sleeves  falling  over  her  rounded  arms.  One 
slender  white  hand  was  lifted,  the  fingers  resting 
lightly  against  her  cheek. 

Miss  Judith  studied  the  picture  long  and  closely. 

The  lustrous  dark  hair  was  brought  low  over  the 
thoughtful  brow,  half  concealing  the  white  temples 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN     113 

and  the  tips  of  the  pearly  ears.  A  stately,  intel 
lectual  woman,  generosity  and  breadth  indicated  by 
the  noble  forehead,  a  loving  heart  looking  from  the 
tender  eyes.  She  returned  the  picture  to  its  place 
with  a  sigh. 

A  peculiar  whirr  drew  her  attention  to  a  small 
clock  of  some  carved  wood,  standing  on  the  simple 
shelf  of  redwood  that  served  for  a  mantelpiece.  As 
she  looked,  two  tiny  doors  flew  open,  a  brown  bird 
hopped  out,  told  off  the  hour  in  a  succession  of 
liquid  notes,  hopped  back  into  his  niche,  and  the 
doors  swung  after  him. 

Outside,  in  the  gloom,  a  chorus  of  night  birds 
answered  his  greeting.  She  could  distinguish  the 
mellow  call  of  the  California  nightingale,  and  a  blue 
jay's  harsh  note  of  defiance.  Following  these  there 
came  a  piteous,  thrilling  refrain,  as  of  some  small 
songster  for  whom  existence  was  weighed  down  with 
sorrow.  After  a  while  the  nightingale  relapsed  into 
silence,  and  the  jay  ceased  his  jeering  cry,  but  the 
small  bird  of  sorrow  flitted  from  tree  to  tree,  repeat 
ing  his  woeful  lament. 

The  room  was  large,  and  its  shadows  deep.  Her 
eyes,  growing  accustomed  to  the  semi-twilight  that 
reigned  outside  of  the  little  circle  of  light  encom 
passing  her,  traveled  to  the  farther  side  of  the 
room,  and  she  saw,  spanning  the  ceiling  from  wall  to 
wall,  a  massive  dark  wood  carving  of  elaborate  de 
sign.  Attached  to  this,  the  heavy  folds  of  the  black 
curtain,  sombre  and  sinister,  hung  to  the  floor. 

"  Mistress  of  all  I  possess,  except  what  lies  behind 
the  black  curtain  !  " 


114  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

This  fantastic  speech  recurred  to  the  girl  again 
and  again.  What  was  his  meaning?  What  mys 
tery,  sorrow,  or  sin  was  concealed  behind  those 
heavy  folds  ? 

What  was  the  secret  of  Mr.  Paul's  life  ?  What 
strange  circumstance  or  combination  of  circum 
stances  could  have  led  this  man  of  culture  into  soli 
tary  exile,  to  live  by  the  labor  of  his  own  hands  ?  A 
traveler,  too,  and  a  man  of  education,  who  might 
easily  have  found  a  chair  in  some  college  or  acad 
emy,  surrounded  by  congenial  associations,  had  his 
chosen  business  or  calling  failed  him. 

Was  the  beautiful  woman  of  the  portrait  ac 
quainted  with  the  mystery  ?  Had  she  a  part  in  it  ? 
Or  could  it  be  the  curtain  which  was  dividing  these 
two  lives,  apparently  so  dear  to  each  other,  and 
shadowing  two  souls  with  hopeless  sorrow  ? 

She  tried  to  put  these  questions  aside.  She  told 
herself  that  she  had  no  desire  to  fathom  the  mys 
tery.  Could  she  have  drawn  the  curtain  aside  by 
merely  putting  out  her  hand,  she  would  not  have 
done  it. 

A  careless  movement  caused  the  ankle  to  begin 
paining  her  fiercely  again.  She  changed  her  posi 
tion,  drawing  about  her  shoulders  the  warm  rug  that 
Mr.  Paul's  thoughtfulness  had  provided  her.  Pil 
lowing  her  cheek  on  her  hand,  she  looked  around 
her,  and  all  the  strange,  weird  furnishings  seemed 
to  assume  a  sympathetic,  friendly  aspect.  The  room 
was  really  a  most  restful,  peaceful  place.  Its  very 
atmosphere  was  soothing. 

How  had  it  happened  that  such  a  foolish  dream 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN     115 

had  overtaken  her  on  the  way  down  the  canon !  Mr. 
Paul  had  shown  her  precisely  the  same  degree  of 
kindness  and  the  same  tender  sympathy  that  he 
would  have  exhibited  towards  a  hurt  child,  and  she 
was  sincerely  grateful  to  him.  She  rejoiced  in  her 
heart  that  instead  of  an  enemy  she  had  found  in  him 
a  stanch,  true  friend,  —  a  friend  who  had  persisted  in 
kindness  to  her  even  when  he  had  believed  himself 
suffering  from  a  most  atrocious  injury  at  her  hands. 
A  good,  sensible  friend.  She  asked  nothing  more. 
And  yet,  what  was  that  queer  little  ache,  that  sensa 
tion  of  missing  something  dear  and  precious,  —  the 
loss  of  something  that  had  never  been  ? 

She  was  conscious  of  growing  drowsy,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  Mr.  Paul  had  been  gone  a  very 
long  time.  A  long  time  to  lie  alone  and  helpless, 
with  an  aching  ankle,  in  a  strange  house,  and  in  that 
weird  room. 

Her  eyes  wandered  again  to  the  black  curtain. 
She  was  dreaming  again.  Its  folds  were  stirring, 
stirring,  and  it  was  not  the  night  wind  that  moved 
them.  An  irresistible  fascination  drew  her  eyes  to 
the  swaying  drapery,  and  she  was  conscious  that  its 
mystery  was  about  to  be  solved. 

It  was  a  woman's  hand  —  a  white,  shapely  hand, 
whose  counterpart  she  had  seen  in  the  portrait  — 
that  parted  them,  and  while  she  waited,  breathless 
and  panic-stricken,  a  tall,  stately  figure  advanced 
slowly  into  the  room,  her  eyes  fixed  on  Miss  Judith's. 

The  girl  was  paralyzed  with  terror,  and  could 
neither  move  nor  cry  out.  The  lady  moved  slowly 
towards  her,  and  at  length  stood  beside  her  chair, 


116  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

looking  down  upon  her  with  her  eyes,  gray  and  cold, 
that  seemed  to  scornfully  inventory  the  timid  suf 
ferer,  lingering  on  the  slight,  childish  figure,  the 
tumbled  hair,  the  features  now  blanched  with  fright 
and  pinched  with  pain.  An  ironical  smile  over 
spread  the  stranger's  face. 

"  No.  One  cannot  lose  what  one  never  has  pos 
sessed.  And  you  never  have  possessed  it.  Past  nor 
present,  present  nor  future,  you  never  shall  possess 
it.  The  black  curtain,  ay,  the  black  curtain,  cursing 
every  one  that  lives  beneath  its  baleful  shadow,  shall 
do  its  work." 

Before  Miss  Judith  could  divine  her  intention,  the 
lady  had  swept  with  regal  grace  across  the  floor,  and, 
raising  her  bare  white  arms,  gathered  the  mass  of 
drapery  in  them  and  tore  it  from  its  fastenings.  A 
portion  of  the  time-stained  carving  to  which  it  was 
hung  fell  with  a  crash  to  the  floor.  She  dragged 
the  black  pall  across  the  room,  and  with  the  same 
cold  smile  on  her  lips  began  wrapping  it  about  the 
girl.  Fold  upon  fold  she  laid  over  and  about  her, 
while  her  victim  struggled,  voicelessly,  to  push  it 
away  and  to  make  her  escape.  Would  Heaven  never 
remove  this  awful  ban  upon  all  her  faculties  ?  Must 
she  submit,  without  a  protest,  to  this  grotesque 
doom,  to  be  smothered  by  this  funereal  drapery  in 
this  dreadful  woman's  hands  ?  Like  a  child  acquir 
ing  the  art  of  speech,  she  began  to  brokenly  shape 
words,  until  at  length  voice  and  the  power  of  articu 
lation  came  back  to  her. 

"  The  black  curtain !  Help  !  Oh,  help  !  I  am 
choking !  " 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN     117 

But  still  the  cruel  hands  bound  the  black  stuff 
closely  about  her,  pinioning  her  arms  so  that  she 
could  make  no  struggle. 

"  Mr.  Paul !  Where  are  you?  Save  me,  oh,  save 
me  !  The  black  curtain !  Mr.  Paul !  " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

OUT   OF  THE   SHADOW 

"  YES,  yes !  "  said  a  soothing,  strange  voice.  "  We 
will  see  to  that  by  and  by.  Keep  the  foot  very  still 
now,  child,  that  we  may  place  the  bones  precisely 
in  line." 

She  opened  her  eyes  and  encountered  Mr.  Paul's 
look  of  compassion,  and  saw  the  gray  head  of  a 
stranger  who  was  kneeling  beside  her.  Upon  her 
foot,  she  felt  a  firm,  practiced  touch.  Then  a  hand 
seized  the  ankle  above  the  fracture.  She  turned  her 
head,  and  was  surprised  to  see  that  the  black  cur 
tain  was  still  in  place.  Was  it  imagination,  or  did 
she  see  a  white  hand  for  an  instant  at  its  parting  ? 

"  Do  not  move !  "  admonished  the  voice.  "  Only 
one  instant  now !  " 

A  harsh  wrench  of  the  limb,  an  awful  pain,  a 
horrid  crunching  and  grinding,  as  the  bones  slipped 
into  place. 

"  Here,  Mr.  Paul !  Your  help,  please.  Hold  this 
splint  here  where  I  have  placed  it." 

A  bandage  was  wound  around  and  around,  and 
securely  fastened. 

"  You  are  to  be  congratulated,  madam,  upon  this 
nice,  clean  fracture,  —  the  thing  a  physician  loves  to 
see.  In  a  few  weeks  the  bone  will  be  as  firmly  knit 
together  as  it  ever  was.  If  it  had  been  a  sprain, 


OUT  OF  THE  SHADOW  119 

now !  Sprains  are  often  ugly  things.  You  might 
have  been  laid  up  for  months.  Only  keep  very 
quiet  for  the  present.  She  will  remain  here  ?  "  ad 
dressing  Mr.  Paul. 

"  Certainly.  There  is  not  the  slightest  occasion 
for  her  to  be  moved,"  replied  Mr.  Paul  pleasantly. 

"  But  the  black  curtain,  doctor ! "  cried  the  girl 
piteously.  "  I  must  go.  I  must  go  home  to-night. 
It  smothers  me.  I  am  afraid  of  it.  It  suffocates 
me." 

"  That  is  all  right,"  declared  the  doctor  sooth 
ingly.  "  Take  a  drink  of  cold  water,  close  your  eyes, 
and  sleep." 

The  girl  rejected  the  water. 

"  You  don't  understand,  doctor.  You  did  n't  see. 
I  must  get  away  from  the  curtain.  It  stifles  me.  I 
cannot  live  in  its  shadow.  Oh,  I  do  not  see  how 
you  can  endure  it,"  turning  to  the  young  man. 

"  It  is  my  fate,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  that  only 
she  heard. 

The  doctor  laid  his  hand  on  her  forehead,  then 
wisely  drew  from  his  pocket  a  tiny  thermometer,  and 
placed  it  in  her  mouth.  When  several  minutes  had 
elapsed  he  removed  it  and  consulted  its  scale. 

"  Delirium !  "  he  whispered  significantly  to  Mr. 
Paul.  "  A  slight  inflammation  attendant  upon  the 
hurt,  giving  rise  to  a  touch  of  fever.  Still,  the  fancy 
is  so  strong  it  may  be  well  to  indulge  it." 

"  And  will  you  carry  me  away  from  the  curtain, 
doctor  ?  I  should  die  if  I  had  to  live  beneath  it." 

"That  is  all  right.  You  shall  go,"  said  the 
doctor. 


120  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  It  is  a  very  strange  fancy,"  said  Mr.  Paul,  in  a 
vexed  tone,  to  the  physician. 

"  It  is  certainly  a  very  strange  curtain  !  "  returned 
the  surgeon,  surveying  the  curtain's  dismal  folds. 

To  Miss  Judith's  inexpressible  relief  the  two  men 
carried  her  up  to  the  paper  house  that  night,  the 
doctor,  who  was  the  lighter  of  the  two,  supporting 
her  as  she  limped  up  her  winding  stairway,  and  she 
awoke  the  next  morning  to  the  bright  sunshine  and 
cheerful  surroundings  of  her  own  little  home  in  the 
oak-tree. 


CHAPTER   XV 
GOOD  COMRADES 

DURING  the  weeks  of  inaction  that  followed,  Miss 
Judith  learned  some  salutary  lessons,  and  a  sincere 
gratitude  was  the  first  of  them.  Always  a  spirited 
little  being,  priding  herself  upon  her  absolute  inde 
pendence,  the  help  which  she  required,  and  which 
money  could  not  have  hired  in  that  busy  season  of 
the  fruit  harvest,  came  to  her  freely  through  the 
impulse  of  neighborly  sympathy.  Mrs.  Birdsall, 
whose  coarse  manners  and  gossipy  habit  were  so 
distasteful  to  her  that  she  had  snubbed  the  good 
lady  by  never  returning  her  first  call,  shone  out  as 
a  rescuing  angel  in  this  emergency,  showering  upon 
the  girl  examples  of  her  really  excellent  cookery. 

Other  strait-laced  and  uninteresting  women,  vil 
lagers'  and  farmers'  wives,  whose  acquaintance  she 
had  disdained,  sent  gifts  of  choice  preserves  and 
jellies,  and  toiled  up  the  steep  road  in  clumsy  con 
veyances  and  behind  sleepy  farm  horses,  to  fearfully 
climb  up  to  the  cottage  and  lighten  Miss  Judith's 
monotonous  hours  with  kindly  chat  and  solicitous 
inquiries.  Even  the  children,  barefooted  lads  whose 
faces  were  unfamiliar  to  her,  neatly  dressed  little 
boys  and  girls  whom  she  dimly  remembered  as  hav 
ing  greeted  on  farm  gate  or  village  street,  came 
eagerly  to  the  mesa,  bearing  messages  and  tribute 


122  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

to  the  friendless  young  stranger,  and  expended  their 
individual  zeal  in  enthusiastic  war  upon  the  weeds 
and  runners  in  her  berry  beds. 

"I  don't  deserve  it!  "  said  the  girl,  in  self-abase 
ment.  "They  might  have  lain  down  and  died, 
every  one,  and  I  would  have  been  none  the  wiser, 
nor  even  have  grieved  to  hear  it." 

She  rendered  secret  atonement  for  her  previous 
indifference  by  exercising  a  gracious  hospitality  to 
wards  the  older  visitors,  and  captivating  the  younger 
ones  with  charming  tales  of  fairies  and  hobgoblins, 
sometimes  reading  stories  to  them  out  of  the  few 
books  she  possessed,  adapting  the  language  to  their 
youthful  comprehension. 

The  village  clergy,  Protestant  and  Catholic,  hon 
ored  her  with  sympathetic  calls,  the  former  urging 
her  to  join  his  flock  when  she  should  have  recovered 
from  her  injury,  while  he  of  the  brown  cassock  and 
sandals  said  no  word  of  his  holy  calling,  nor  ex 
tended  formal  invitation  to  the  church  whose  doors 
are  always  open. 

Throughout  the  entire  period  Mr.  Paul  was  most 
attentive,  serving  in  all  manner  of  ways. 

"You  are  a  veritable  staff  to  lean  upon  —  in  sea 
sons  of  lameness ! "  Miss  Judith  called  to  him  one 
day,  as  she  watched  him  fill  the  gasoline  tank  on  her 
range,  a  task  that  she  had  been  wondering  how  she 
should  accomplish. 

" '  A  staff  unto  my  feet  and  a  light  unto  my  eyes, ' ' 
gravely  quoted  the  young  man.     "Some  day,  Miss 
Judith,  if  I  call  upon  you  for  the  greater  service, 
will  you  grant  it?  " 


GOOD  COMRADES  123 

"If  I  can,"  she  replied  simply. 

One  feature  of  these  weeks  of  confinement  im 
pressed  Mr.  Paul,  while  it  puzzled  him. 

During  Miss  Judith's  helplessness  he  had  natu 
rally  undertaken  to  bring  her  mail  from  the  railroad 
village,  to  which  he  regularly  went.  He  could  not 
help  noticing  the  scant  correspondence  she  seemed 
to  conduct.  A  few  letters  bearing  the  imprint  of 
nurseries  or  seed-houses,  now  and  then  one  with  the 
stamp  of  a  San  Francisco  tradesman,  with  perhaps 
one  or  two  personal  letters  throughout  the  entire 
period,  comprised  the  sum  and  substance  of  her 
correspondence.  Yet  she  never  failed  to  meet  him 
with  the  same  eager  inquiry :  — 

"Any  letter  for  me,  Mr.  Paul?  " 

These  appeals  grew  more  and  more  anxious  as 
time  went  by,  until  he  could  almost  imagine  that 
there  was  a  note  of  entreaty  in  the  gentle  voice 
which  repeated  the  monotous  inquiry :  — 

"No  letter  for  me  to-day,  Mr.  Paul?  " 

He  came  to  feel  that  his  constant  failure  to  bring 
this  looked-for  letter  was  inflicting  a  grievous  dis 
appointment  upon  her ;  there  was  an  indefinable  air 
of  brooding  trouble  about  the  girl,  some  hope  or 
resource  was  failing  her. 

"If  it  is  a  man,  and  he  is  trifling  with  or  deceiv 
ing  that  sweet  little  woman,  I  'd  like  to  know  it  — 
and  him!  "  he  said  grimly  to  himself. 

Time  wore  on,  and  the  letter  Miss  Judith  so  anx 
iously  awaited  did  not  come.  After  a  time  she 
seemed  to  no  longer  expect  it,  and  often  waited 
silently  while  he  answered  the  questioning  look  in 
her  eyes. 


124  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

Despite  her  straightforward  manner  and  almost 
childish  candor,  she  was  not  one  upon  whose  reserve 
one  would  willingly  intrude ;  nor  was  Mr.  Paul,  who 
had  his  own  reserves,  the  one  to  probe  the  hidden 
sorrow  or  to  force  an  unwilling  confidence. 

"If  she  wishes  to  tell  me,  she  will  do  so,"  he 
thought. 

Nevertheless  he  noted  with  genuine  apprehension 
the  change  that  was  taking  place  in  Miss  Judith, 
her  loss  of  color,  the  singular  lassitude,  for  which 
her  injury  was  insufficient  to  account.  Even  when 
he  one  day  helped  her  down  her  winding  stair,  and 
placed  her  in  a  hammock  swung  beneath  the  tree, 
the  diversion  did  not  cheer  her. 

She  looked  dreamily  away  over  the  landscape  to 
where  they  could  see  a  large  coast  steamer  gliding 
over  the  water  under  full  steam,  looking  in  the  dis 
tance  like  some  fairy  craft  trailing  a  breath  of  mist. 

"I  wish  I  were  in  that  steamer,  going  up  to  San 
Francisco,"  remarked  Miss  Judith,  with  sudden 
energy. 

"You  have  not  looked  at  your  strawberry  bed. 
I  'm  rather  proud  of  the  way  it  has  flourished  under 
my  stewardship.  The  water  from  the  tunnel  has 
given  it  new  life.  The  children  have  worked  at  it 
like  beavers,  and  I  've  taken  a  hand  with  them  now 
and  then.  It 's  so  full  of  blooms  you  can't  count 
them,  and  before  Christmas  it  ought  to  market  a 
superb  crop  of  berries." 

She  moved  her  head  ever  so  little,  and  sent  an 
indifferent  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  berry 
patch. 


GOOD  COMRADES  125 

"I  'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  I  'm  sure.  But 
I  believe  I  hate  strawberries,"  she  said. 

"They  are  rather  a  back-breaking  occupation," 
rejoined  the  young  man  apologetically.  "Raspber 
ries  are  different.  They  are  ripening  in  consider 
able  quantities  now,  late  in  the  season  as  it  is. 
Next  week  you  will  certainly  have  a  generous  yield 
for  your  table.  That  bovine  racer  of  yours  is  dry 
ing  up  altogether  too  soon  for  a  cow  at  her  second 
milking,  but  she  can  certainly  supply  enough  cream 
for  the  berries,  and  raspberries  and  cream  are  a 
dish  for  the  gods!  " 

"The  gods  may  have  them,  for  all  I  care,"  re 
turned  the  girl  absently.  "  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Mr.  Paul.  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  saying.  It 
was  because  I  was  thinking." 

Mr.  Paul  looked  down  upon  the  earth,  and  in 
imagination  ground  that  unknown  recreant  corre 
spondent  under  his  heel. 

When  Miss  Judith  was  given  a  pair  of  crutches, 
and  undertook  to  learn  their  use,  she  perceptibly 
brightened,  for,  provided  even  with  this  awkward 
means  of  locomotion,  she  was  enabled  to  find  occu 
pation  which  created  diversion  for  the  troubled 
mind.  Still  it  was  evident  that  her  thoughts  were 
often  far  away,  and  the  wish  that  she  had  openly 
expressed  he  fancied  that  he  could  often  read  in  her 
face. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  the  hope  he  had  formed 
in  the  early  days  of  his  acquaintance  with  the  little 
lady  was  in  a  fair  way  of  realization.  The  tide  had 
turned.  Miss  Judith  was  growing  disenchanted 


126  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

with  the  charms  of  a  rural  existence.  One  of  these 
days,  probably  at  a  time  now  near  at  hand,  she 
would  be  ready  to  listen  to  a  reasonable  proposition 
for  a  compromise.  He  would  allow  her  a  generous 
compensation  for  her  improvements,  and  thus  secure 
undisputed  possession  of  the  land;  then  he  would 
help  her  to  pack  up  the  pretty  furnishings  of  the 
paper  cottage,  and  take  her  down  to  the  station, 
there  to  pronounce  a  friendly  farewell,  and  he  would 
return  to  enjoy  peaceful  and  undivided  occupation 
of  the  coveted  territory. 

Somehow  this  prospect  did  not  appear  as  enchant 
ing  as  it  once  had  seemed  to  Mr.  Paul. 

Miss  Judith,  who  enjoyed  ample  time  for  reflec 
tion  during  her  enforced  idleness,  reviewed  all  the 
events  of  the  past  year,  together  with  Mr.  Paul's 
every  act. 

"I  did  him  what  must  have  seemed  —  considering 
his  remarkable  faith  in  the  justice  of  his  claim  to 
the  land  —  the  most  shameful  wrong,  and  when  he 
spoke  to  me  about  it,  I  appeared  to  vaunt  it  and 
glory  in  it !  If  the  situation  had  been  reversed  — 
Well,  I  know  very  well  what  I  felt  the  day  that  I 
climbed  the  trail,  believing  he  had  deprived  me  of 
my  water  supply !  Yet  all  the  time  he  never  retali 
ated  with  a  single  discourteous  word  or  act.  And 
when  I  so  ungenerously  accused  him  of  what  I  my 
self  had  actually  done,  and  forced  an  explanation 
of  that  wretched  affair,  he  not  only  accepted  my 
word,  but  took  upon  himself  the  entire  blame  of  the 
misunderstanding.  And  after  that " 

But  here  there  always  occurred  a  gap  in  Miss 


GOOD  COMRADES  127 

Judith's  reminiscences.  Out  of  her  life  she  had 
deliberately  dropped  a  single  hour,  and  when  a  man 
or  woman  intentionally  drops  from  life  any  period, 
long  or  short,  you  may  know  that  it  must  be  weighty 
with  meaning. 

Out  of  all  these  reflections  had  grown  a  most 
magnanimous  resolve,  and  it  was  this  that  Miss 
Judith  was  conning,  some  eight  weeks  after  her 
accident,  as  she  flitted  busily  about  the  cottage,  pre 
paring  a  meal  that  was  to  celebrate  two  events  of 
importance  to  the  people  most  concerned. 

With  the  doctor's  permission,  she  had  that  morn 
ing  discarded  her  crutches,  and  was  feeling  a  won 
derful  exhilaration  at  being,  as  she  phrased  it,  an 
"able-bodied  person  "  once  more,  when  Mr.  Paul  had 
stopped,  on  his  way  to  town,  to  congratulate  her. 

"It  is  a  notable  day  to  me,  as  well,"  he  had  said 
genially.  "I  turned  my  thirty-fifth  milestone  this 
morning,  and  began  to  go  downhill  to-day.  Wit 
ness  these  white  hairs!"  and  he  lifted  his  hat  in 
mock  solemnity. 

The  young  man  could  afford  to  jest  about  marks 
of  age.  His  abundant  brown  hair  was  glossy  as  a 
boy's,  and  as  yet  was  not  threaded  by  so  much  as 
a  single  gray  hair,  while  his  face,  despite  the  sober 
look  it  habitually  wore,  was  free  from  lines  and 
instinct  with  the  vigor  of  youth. 

"No  man  begins  to  go  downhill  at  thirty -five," 
contended  the  girl.  "A  woman  may,  at  thirty,  but 
a  man's  way  lies  uphill  until  he  reaches  fifty,  and 
even  beyond.  Some  of  our  greatest  statesmen  have 
done  their  best  work  after  sixty." 


128  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"The  best  possibilities  of  life  closed  to  me  a  year 
ago,"  returned  the  young  man  gloomily.  "It  was 
then  I  drew  the  last  coin  from  my  purse." 

"There  is  no  last  coin  in  the  purse  of  a  man 
young  and  vigorous,"  asserted  Miss  Judith  with 
warmth.  "A  young  man's  resources  are  inexhaust 
ible.  If  one  thing  fails  him,  he  should  turn  to 
another." 

"So  I  have  —  to  cabbages!  "  retorted  Mr.  Paul. 

"And  Sairy  Ann  spoiled  the  cabbage  patch!" 
cried  the  girl  compassionately.  "Mr.  Paul,  I  owe 
you  a  birthday  dinner  for  those  cabbages.  It  shall 
be  ready  when  you  come  back." 

The  young  man's  face  brightened  as  he  lifted  his 
hat  and  passed  on.  During  her  long  helplessness 
his  little  neighbor  had  been  a  veritable  will-o'-the- 
wisp  in  moods,  now  receiving  him  in  the  most  cor 
dial,  sisterly  fashion,  now  puzzling  him  with  her 
gay  humor,  and  again  retreating  to  an  immeasura 
ble  distance.  To-day  she  had  returned  to  a  frank 
comradeship. 

Miss  Judith  had  everything  ready  for  that  fin 
ishing  process  known  as  "taking  up,"  when  the 
unaccustomed  sound  of  wheels  drew  her  to  the 
door.  Mr.  Paul  had  gone  away  on  the  sorrel  mare's 
back.  He  returned  driving  the  animal  in  a  neat 
little  hammock  cart,  the  saddle  at  his  feet. 

"  I  concluded  to  make  myself  a  birthday  present, 
Miss  Judith,"  he  explained,  springing  from  the 
cart.  "  I  shall  have  to  ask  the  privilege  of  taking 
my  horse  out  of  harness  here,  until  I  have  a  better 
road  to  my  cabin.  Perhaps  you  '11  do  me  the  favor 


GOOD  COMRADES  129 

to  use  it  occasionally  in  return.  The  mare  needs 
driving,  to  keep  her  spirits  down." 

His  neighbor  returned  an  embarrassed  reply.  The 
fact  that  she  had  long  felt  the  need  of  some  con 
veyance  made  her  shy  of  accepting  this  offer.  But 
she  came  cautiously  down  the  steps,  and  admired 
the  cart's  graceful  lines  and  ingenious  construction. 

"A  cart  is  the  proper  vehicle  for  these  hill  roads," 
remarked  Mr.  Paul,  as  he  unbuckled  the  harness, 
while  the  girl  caressed  the  pretty  mare  after  the 
foolish  fashion  of  women.  "No  danger  in  turning 
around,  you  see.  It  revolves  on  a  pivot." 

Did  the  young  man  remember  the  day  when  she 
had  confessed  to  him  that  she  was  a  cowardly  driver, 
always  afraid  of  upsetting  a  conveyance  in  turning 
around  ? 

"Miss  Judith,  you  are  a  genius!  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Paul  as  they  sat  down  to  the  small  mahogany 
table,  which,  with  both  wings  spread,  would  have 
groaned  under  the  weight  of  the  delicacies  it  held, 
could  it  have  found  voice. 

"It  is  a  very  sad  thing  to  be  a  genius,"  responded 
the  girl  demurely. 

"In  some  lines,  yes.  But  a  gifted  cook  is  always 
to  be  envied,"  persisted  her  guest.  "And  any  one 
who  can  evolve  a  spread  like  this,  away  from  mar 
kets,  and  with  "  — 

"A  paucity  of  material?"  supplied  the  hostess. 

"As  regards  variety,  yes.  There  is  no  poverty 
of  quantity.  I  used  to  count  myself  a  fair  moun 
tain  and  camp  cook.  But  give  a  man  flour,  sugar, 
yeast-powder,  milk,  eggs,  and  he  can  compose  one 
solitary  dish  " 


130  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"Flapjacks?" 

"Yes,  flapjacks,  and  flapjacks  alone.  Whereas 
a  woman,  given  the  same  material "  — 

"  Gems,  muffins,  pop-overs,  biscuit,  butter  wafers, 
waffles,  cookies,  doughnuts,  omelettes,  puddings  in 
infinite  variety,  a  dozen  kinds  of  cake ! "  called  off 
his  hostess,  pausing,  out  of  breath. 

"After  this  list,  I  bow  my  diminished  head." 

"Oh,  that  is  a  mere  nothing.  Given  so  many 
ingredients,  with  all  the  different  methods  of  cook 
ing,  and  there  is  scarcely  any  limit  to  the  changes 
one  can  play.  The  real  art  is  to  play  these  changes 
upon  but  one  ingredient." 

"Only  one  ingredient!  Oh,  you  couldn't  do 
that  unless  you  were  a  magician." 

"Yes,  you  could.  With  potatoes,  for  instance. 
There  need  be  little  suffering  among  the  poor  of 
our  large  cities,  if  all  the  housewives  would  learn 
the  wonderful  variety  of  really  tempting  dishes  that 
can  be  prepared  from  this  one  cheapest  of  vegeta 
bles.  A  celebrated  cook  claims  that  he  can  cook 
potatoes  in  a  hundred  different  ways.  No  woman 
is  fit  to  be  a  poor  man's  wife  until  she  has  learned 
at  least  twenty -five.  Of  course  it 's  highly  improper 
to  make  eating  the  chief  end  of  life,  but  the  fact 
remains  that  nine  tenths  of  the  misery  among  the 
poor  —  sickness,  dissension,  discontent  —  is  caused 
by  ignorant  or  unskillful  preparation  of  the  cheap 
foodstuffs  at  their  command." 

"You're  turning  social  economist,  Miss  Judith." 

"On  a  very  limited  scale.     I  know  little  of  wages 

and  profits,  and  nothing  at  all  of  basic  principles. 


GOOD  COMRADES  131 

It 's  the  homely,  woman's  share  of  the  question  that 
appeals  to  me." 

"I  'm  not  sure  but  it 's  the  most  important  part," 
said  the  man  thoughtfully.  "Once  get  the  Home 
—  I  speak  the  word  with  a  capital  letter,  for  it 
always  seems  to  me  the  most  important  factor  in 
society  or  government  —  get  the  Home  properly 
organized  everywhere  "  — 

"And  the  little  children  properly  started,"  put 
in  Miss  Judith.  Her  voice  was  very  soft  and  sweet. 
"  There  is  the  chief  mistake,  —  making  the  wrong 
beginnings.  The  world  is  always  mending  mistakes, 
but  that  early  mistake  is  the  one  that  can  never  be 
mended." 

She  spoke  with  deep  feeling.  There  were  tears 
in  her  hazel  eyes  as  she  looked  up. 

"We  have  to  accept  conditions  as  they  are,"  said 
Mr.  Paul  soberly.  "The  wrong  beginnings  will  be 
made,  and  the  best  that  people  can  do  is  to  mend, 
and  to  patiently  keep  on  mending." 

No  complexity  of  courses  burdened  this  appetizing 
repast.  Its  crowning  glory  was  a  huge  birthday 
cake,  adorned  with  frosting  quilled  over  it  in  a 
fancy  design,  the  hollows  filled  with  cubes  of  ruby- 
colored  jelly. 

"If  I  could  have  found  some  little  colored  can 
dies,  I  would  have  spelled  your  name  upon  the  cake 
in  genuine  schoolboy  style,"  explained  his  hostess. 
"This  is  a  sorry  substitute." 

"It  is  gorgeous!"  cried  Mr.  Paul,  with  a  mock 
obeisance.  "  So  imposing  that  I  am  afraid  to  cut 
it  for  fear  of  spoiling  the  pattern." 


132  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"Let  me  do  it,"  proposed  Miss  Judith,  poising 
the  knife  gracefully  above  it.  "  Oh,  I  am  forget- 
ting." 

She  laid  down  the  knife  and  pushed  towards  him 
a  tulip-shaped  silver  cup,  filled  with  something  that 
he  took  to  be  powdered  sugar,  and  was  about  to 
empty  in  the  cup  of  fragrant  tea  which  steamed  at 
his  elbow. 

"No,  no!  "  she  protested.  "That  is  the  test.  If 
we  are  to  be  friends  hereafter,  you  must  take  a 
pinch  of  salt;  if  enemies,  spill  it  on  the  table." 

He  held  the  dish  in  his  hand  as  if  debating  with 
himself,  tilted  it  dangerously  to  one  side,  then  set 
it  down,  took  a  pinch  between  his  thumb  and  finger, 
and  tasted  it  with  a  grimace. 

"That  settles  it,"  said  Miss  Judith,  who  evidently 
attached  much  importance  to  this  ceremony.  "Now 
you  may  have  your  cake,  and  while  you  are  eating 
it  I  have  a  proposition  to  make." 

The  young  man  meekly  accepted  a  generous  slab 
of  the  ornamental  edifice  before  him,  and  awaited 
her  communication. 

"Now  it  is  all  nonsense  for  us  to  be  quarreling 
over  this  land,"  began  Miss  Judith. 

"She's  going  to  offer  to  abdicate!"  said  Mr. 
Paul  to  himself,  with  a  strange  sinking  of  the  heart. 
Aloud  he  only  remarked :  — 

"So  you  are  getting  tired  of  the  country,  Miss 
Judith?" 

"Tired  of  the  country!  Who  says  I  am  tired  of 
the  country?" 

"I  couldn't  help  noticing,"  said  the  young  man 


GOOD  COMRADES  133 

resignedly,  "that  your  enthusiasm  appeared  to  have 
died  out.  You  don't  seem  to  care  for  the  berry 
patch  any  longer.  You  haven't  asked  for  a  necro- 
logical  report  upon  your  young  chickens  since  they 
have  been  intrusted  to  my  care." 

"A  —  what  kind  of  report?"  she  asked,  with  a 
puzzled  face. 

"Necrological.  Perhaps  I  should  use  simpler 
language,  and  say  a  mortuary  list.  I  'm  ready  for 
you.  I  've  been  arming  myself  with  poultry  statis 
tics,  in  anticipation  of  this  moment,  and  am  ready 
to  prove  that  the  average  mortality  of  chickens  of 
a  tender  age  is  usually  thirty  per  cent.  I  've  only 
lost  forty -five  per  cent.,  and  I  put  it  to  your  sense  of 
fairness  if  that  isn't  a  good  showing  for  an  amateur 
with  no  pretensions  whatever  in  the  poultry  line. 
However,  I  '11  consider  these  losses  when  it  comes  to 
making  you  an  actual  offer." 

He  was  going  on  recklessly,  warding  off  the  an 
nouncement  that  he  felt  sure  she  was  about  to 
make,  and  lo !  he  had  himself  blundered  into  anti 
cipating  it. 

"An  offer?  Explain  yourself,  sir!  An  offer  of 
what?  " 

"For  your  stock  and  improvements,  in  case  you 
want  to  sell  out  and  go  away." 

He  did  not  look  like  a  very  eager  buyer,  but  the 
lady  did  not  take  his  appearance  into  account. 

"Why  should  you  suppose  that  I  want  to  go 
away?"  she  queried.  "Are  you  so  anxious  to  get 
rid  of  me,  Mr.  Paul?" 

"Now,  Miss  Judith,  what  else  could  I  suppose, 


134  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

from  the  way  you  opened  out  on  me?  Is  it  possible 
that  I  have  been  mistaking  your  sentiments,  and 
that  you  are  not  going  to  declare  that  you  detest 
the  country?" 

Somehow  a  great  load  had  dropped  from  Mr. 
Paul's  mind. 

"Detest  the  country!  I  love  it, — love  it  more 
than  ever.  I  do  not  think  I  could  bear  to  go  away, 
could  endure  any  other  life.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  this  reposeful  existence,  I  could  never  have  sur 
vived  the  past  four  weeks." 

For  an  instant  she  seemed  lost  in  sad  thought; 
then  she  rallied  and  looked  up  brightly. 

"But  you  don't  ask  me  what  I  was  going  to 
propose ! " 

"I  am  waiting  for  you  to  explain  yourself."  .   * 

"Mr.  Paul,  some  day,  if  we  live  long  enough, 
this  land  will  be  surveyed,  and  one  or  the  other  of 
us  will  be  compelled  to  enter  it,  or  lose  all  chance 
to  secure  it." 

Mr.  Paul  assented. 

"  If  you  enter  it,  I  shall  certainly  contest.  If  I 
enter  it,  —  of  course  you  have  been  very  polite  and 
kind  to  me,  — but  I  don't  think  you  have  any  more 
intention  of  giving  up  than  I  have." 

"Certainly  not!" 

"Such  a  contest  would  be  expensive,  and  exas 
perating  to  us  both.  I  have  thought  of  a  way  out 
of  it." 

"And  what  is  this  marvelous  solution  of  the 
vexed  problem  ?  " 

"It  is  this.     Being  squatters  upon   unsurveyed 


GOOD  COMRADES  135 

public  lands,  we  are  entitled  to  enter  three  hundred 
and  twenty  acres.  I  have  been  reading  up  the  law. 
We  will  divide  the  land.  You  can  enter  a  hundred 
and  sixty  acres,  and  I  will  enter  a  hundred  and 
sixty." 

Mr.  Paul  deliberated. 

"I  decline  to  compromise.  I  will  have  all  or 
nothing,"  he  said  at  length. 

"Then  you  prefer  war?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  prefer  peace.  But  peace  on 
my  own  terms." 

"And  what  may  they  be?  "  asked  the  girl  coldly. 

Mr.  Paul  looked  searchingly  at  her.  She  re 
turned  his  gaze  with  the  utmost  calmness.  He 
looked  away. 

"Some  day  I  may  tell  you.     Not  now." 

"Oh,  how  vexatious  you  are!"  she  exclaimed, 
rising  from  the  little  table  and  attempting  to  trun 
dle  the  tall  screen  before  it.  "  If  I  had  a  temper  "  — 

He  sprang  to  help  her. 

"How  very  fortunate  that  you  have  not!  But 
you  were  saying  "  —  he  innocently  queried. 

"Oh,  if  I  had  a  temper  (which  you  know  very 
well  that  I  have  not,  Mr.  Paul),  I  should  be  very 
angry." 

"If  it  would  be  any  relief  for  you  to  box  my 
ears  "  — he  amiably  suggested. 

"Oh,  if  you  choose  to  make  light  of  it." 

"On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  serious  matter  to  me." 

The  girl  eyed  him  curiously. 

"One  would  never  think  you  were  so  sordid," 
she  said,  with  a  sigh. 


136  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"I  am  not  sordid,  I  am  only  avaricious.  There 
is  a  vast  difference  between  the  two  terms,"  insisted 
the  young  man. 

"  '  Strange  such  a  difference  should  be  'twixt 
tweedledum  and  tweedledee! '  "  quoted  the  girl  mis 
chievously. 

"You  are  trying  to  exasperate  me,  and  after  salt 
ing  down  our  friendship ;  but  I  warn  you,  I  shall 
not  quarrel,"  said  Mr.  Paul  magnanimously. 

"What  a  martyr  he  is!"  remarked  Miss  Judith 
to  her  bird. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   LETTER 

"FOR  the  present  let  us  be  content  with  matters 
as  they  are.  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  happi 
ness  thereof! " 

Miss  Judith  smiled  at  this  boyish  speech.  She 
had  settled  back  into  her  easy-chair,  looking  very 
content. 

The  sun  was  setting,  and  through  the  open  win 
dow  came  the  low  of  cattle  from  the  distant  salt 
grass  meadows  bordering  the  tide -lands. 

Mr.  Paul  crossed  the  room  and  stood  where  he 
could  see  the  rosy  glow  in  the  western  sky  reflected 
in  the  sloughs  of  the  salt  marshes.  He  glanced 
at  Miss  Judith.  She  had  lain  back,  and  with  closed 
eyes  appeared  a  part  of  the  harmonious,  peaceful 
scene. 

The  young  man  drew  from  his  pocket  a  reed-like 
instrument,  handling  it  caressingly,  like  some  living 
creature  that  he  knew  and  loved.  He  placed  it  to 
his  lips.  A  succession  of  round,  full  notes,  like  the 
soft  warble  of  a  bird,  seemed  to  float  away  and  lose 
themselves  in  the  stillness.  Then  the  exquisite 
melody  of  "Home,  Sweet  Home"  rose  upon  the  air. 

At  the  first  note  Miss  Judith  had  stirred,  but 
her  eyelids  dropped  again,  and  the  player  fancied 
that  she  slept. 


138  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

Once,  twice,  thrice,  he  repeated  the  air,  until  a 
listener  might  almost  have  fancied  that  he  heard 
the  words  of  the  song,  tender,  sweet,  thrilling  with 
feeling,  blending  with  the  air. 

And  now  the  player  took  the  instrument  from  his 
lips  and  looked  out  into  the  gathering  gloom.  The 
light  in  the  west  had  faded  from  crimson  to  sullen 
purple,  the  valley  was  lost  in  shadow,  night  crea 
tures  were  astir,  a  bat  brushed  his  loathsome  form 
against  the  window  screen. 

Again  he  raised  the  reed  to  his  lips,  and  this 
time  the  aria  from  "Norma"  thrilled  the  night  air 
with  its  sad,  sweet  melody. 

At  the  first  notes  the  look  of  sweet  content  van 
ished  from  the  girl's  face,  being  replaced  with  an 
expression  of  distress.  She  put  out  her  hands  in 
passionate  protest,  as  if  the  melody  were  torture 
beyond  endurance. 

"Oh,  I  beg  of  you,  Mr.  Paul,  stop!  I  cannot 
bear  it.  Do  not  spoil  it  all  with  that." 

Mr.  Paul  did  not  consider  himself  a  virtuoso  by 
any  means,  but  he  ranked  among  his  friends  as  far 
from  an  indifferent  flute-player.  A  chance  oppor 
tunity  for  study  abroad  under  one  of  the  first  masters 
of  the  instrument,  and  years  of  subsequent  practice, 
he  reflected,  should  certainly  give  a  man  a  degree  of 
proficiency  which  ought  to  preserve  his  music  from 
being  a  positive  infliction,  as  Miss  Judith  seemed 
to  regard  it.  He  removed  the  instrument  from  his 
lips. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  did  not  know  my  playing 
was  so  offensive,"  he  said  coldly. 


A   LETTER  139 

"It  is  not  that,  but  the  music  itself!  I  cannot 
bear  it.  I  wish  I  might  never  hear  another  note  in 
all  my  life." 

Her  guest  made  no  answer  to  this  tempestuous 
outburst,  but  reflected  that  here  was  a  curious  and, 
so  far  as  his  experience  went,  a  wholly  original 
trait  of  character.  He  had  known  young  ladies 
who  could  not  tell  one  tune  from  another,  and  who 
were  wholly  lacking  in  that  fine  sensitiveness  to 
melody  which  alone  makes  the  appreciative  musi 
cian,  to  nevertheless  declare  that  they  adored  music. 
To  detest  the  art  in  the  abstract  was  a  novel  affec 
tation.  Yet  she  seemed  very  much  in  earnest,  and 
he  could  see,  in  the  failing  light,  that  the  face  she 
turned  back  into  the  room  was  downcast  and  dis 
tressed,  as  if  she  were  repenting  her  confession. 

"I  should  have  consulted  your  wishes  before  I 
began  to  play,"  he  said  a  little  stiffly.  "To  tell 
the  truth,  I  was  not  aware  that  any  one  lived  who 
actually  disliked  music." 

"We  are  all  differently  constituted,  and  I  sup 
pose  all  have  our  peculiarities,"  replied  Miss  Ju 
dith  shortly. 

This  explanation  satisfied  Mr.  Paul.  He  con 
cluded  that  this  singular  idiosyncrasy  was  some 
hereditary  affection,  and  might  account  in  part  for 
the  melancholy  which  occasionally  replaced  this  lit 
tle  person's  customary  cheerfulness.  He  had  read 
of  an  abnormal  sensitiveness  to  sound,  which  con 
stituted  one  of  the  earlier  phases  of  a  disease  that 
left  total  deafness  as  its  result.  Whatever  the 
cause  or  character  of  this  peculiarity,  it  was  cer- 


140  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

tainly  a  great  misfortune.  Although  himself  pre 
tending  to  little  skill  in  and  less  knowledge  of  the 
art,  he  was  a  fervent  lover  of  music,  and  found  in 
it  a  sweet  solace  for  grinding  care.  He  could 
scarcely  conceive  what  it  would  be  to  be  lacking  in 
all  appreciation  of  melody,  as  we  can  with  difficulty 
realize  the  deprivations  of  the  blind  and  deaf  and 
speechless.  How  it  must  diminish  one's  resources, 
shut  off  one  of  the  sweetest  joys  of  existence ! 

He  sincerely  pitied  the  little  woman,  who  by  this 
confession  seemed  to  have  been  removed  to  another 
sphere  of  life.  His  manner  was  exceptionally  kind 
as  he  rose  to  go,  insisting  upon  lighting  her  lamp 
and  performing  other  slight  offices  that  might  save 
her  exertion.  On  parting  he  asked  after  her  ankle 
with  extreme  solicitude. 

"You  are  sure  that  you  are  not  overtaxing  it? 
You  know  you  must  be  very  cautious  for  a  time,  if 
you  wish  to  have  it  absolutely  sound  again." 

"Oh,  the  ankle  is  all  right!"  she  said,  a  little 
impatiently.  "But  —  Mr.  Paul  —  you  did  not  find 
any  letter  for  me  in  the  post  to-day? " 

"Bless  my  soul,  Miss  Judith!  You  made  the 
afternoon  so  pleasant  that  I  actually  forgot ! "  ex 
claimed  the  young  man  contritely,  this  time  draw 
ing  from  his  pocket  a  bulky  envelope,  addressed  in 
a  man's  bold  hand. 

The  girl  hurried  to  the  light  and  eagerly  exam 
ined  the  superscription,  then  tore  it  open  and  began 
to  read.  She  ran  her  eye  quickly  down  the  first 
page,  and  gave  a  low  cry.  Mr.  Paul  was  only  just 
in  time  to  catch  her  as  she  fell  fainting  to  the  floor. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

MISS  JUDITH'S  DISAPPEARANCE 

WHEN  a  song-bird  refuses  to  eat  or  sing,  and 
spends  the  entire  day  moping  in  the  bottom  of  his 
cage,  gloom  will  often  settle  over  an  entire  house 
hold.  To  Mr.  Paul  the  sun  shone  less  brightly 
upon  the  Vernal  Hills,  and  nothing  was  in  accord 
in  all  the  charming  landscape,  when  his  blithe  little 
neighbor,  upon  the  receipt  of  this  mysterious  letter, 
drooped  and  lost  her  gay  spirits,  and  no  longer 
seemed  to  take  any  interest  in  life. 

Her  strength  was  slowly  coming  back,  but  her 
mood  did  not  change  for  the  better.  Although  she 
went  patiently  about  her  daily  tasks,  there  was  a 
pathetic  shadow  on  the  sweet  young  face,  and  a  tired 
droop  to  her  shoulders,  as  if  they  bent  to  the  weight 
of  an  unseen  burden. 

Miss  Judith  did  not  often  look  at  the  photograph 
in  her  cabinet  now.  When  she  did,  it  was  on  her 
bended  knees. 

In  his  innocence  of  soul,  Mr.  Paul  one  day  at 
tempted  to  counsel  her. 

"Why  don't  you  get  a  woman  to  come  up  and 
stay  with  you  awhile,  Miss  Judith?  I  don't  mean 
a  regular  servant  girl,  but  some  lady  who  would 
enjoy  the  hill  air,  a  sewing-woman  out  of  employ 
ment,  or  a  teacher  who  is  taking  a  vacation  ?  Some- 


142  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

body  who  would  share  your  cares,  and  be  sympa 
thetic,  and  lend  you  companionship?" 

"A  woman !  And  woman's  sympathy !  "  she  cried 
disdainfully.  "That  is  one  of  the  very  things  I 
came  up  here  to  avoid.  When  one  is  not  well,  or 
worried,  it  is  unbearable  to  be  persecuted  with  the 
average  woman's  sympathy.  She  always  wants  to 
probe  the  innermost  recesses  of  your  heart,  and 
drag  out  to  the  light  what  you  have  not  acknow 
ledged  to  your  own  soul.  And  she  has  her  own 
infallible  prescription,  moral  or  physical,  for  every 
ail,  and  watches  you  like  a  hawk  to  see  that  you 
take  it.  Oh,  preserve  me  from  the  average  wo 
man's  companionship  or  sympathy,  Mr.  Paul!  " 

Despite  this  impulsive  outburst,  Miss  Judith  was 
by  no  means  lacking  in  tender  feeling  towards  her 
sex.  One  day  Mr.  Paul,  returning  from  town, 
brought  intelligence  of  a  distressing  case  of  sickness 
and  destitution. 

The  children  of  a  poor  Mexican  family,  a  mile 
or  so  away  in  the  hills,  had  been  taken  sick  with  a 
malignant  disease.  The  mother,  in  delicate  health, 
was  too  feeble  and  too  ignorant  to  do  aught  but  dose 
the  young  sufferers  with  all  manner  of  herb  teas, 
concocted  from  native  herbs  and  shrubs.  The  fa 
ther,  shiftless  and  improvident,  had  gone  on  a  wild 
debauch  when  he  found  that  his  little  brood  was 
in  danger  of  being  swept  away,  and  merciful  author 
ity  had  accorded  him  quarters  in  the  county  jail. 

Tidings  of  their  extremity  had  reached  the  valley, 
and  provisions  and  clothing  had  been  showered  upon 
the  needy  family  with  indiscriminate  liberality. 


MISS  JUDITH'S  DISAPPEARANCE  143 

The  physicians  of  the  place  courteously  contended 
with  each  other  to  render  professional  service,  finally 
conceding  this  doubtful  privilege  to  the  most  modest 
and  hardest-worked  of  all  their  number,  old  Doctor 
Graham.  The  one  thing  most  needed,  personal  care 
and  attention,  no  volunteer  stepped  forth  to  render. 
There  was  no  leisure  class  in  the  valley,  and  all  of 
the  women  were  engrossed  in  their  own  cares.  Had 
there  been  one  who  could  have  been  spared,  she 
would  have  debated  long  with  herself  as  to  whether, 
for  her  own  and  her  family's  sake,  she  would  do 
right  to  expose  herself  to  the  contagion. 

Miss  Judith  listened  attentively  to  this  account, 
but  made  no  remark. 

"A  hard  case,  isn't  it?"  asked  Mr.  Paul,  on 
concluding. 

"Where  did  you  say  they  lived?  "  questioned  the 
girl  carelessly. 

The  young  man  was  nettled  at  her  unwomanly 
apathy. 

"In  that  tumble-down  adobe  on  the  line  of  the 
old  toll-road,"  he  said.  "Beyond  the  oak  grove  on 
that  hill,"  pointing  to  where  a  solemn  line  of  oaks 
stood  like  soldiers  drawn  up  on  parade,  against  the 
afternoon  sky. 

"I  should  think  they  were  quite  off  the  line  of 
travel,"  remarked  Miss  Judith  listlessly. 

"Yes,  the  road  was  abandoned  years  ago,  and  is 
barred  now  by  half  a  dozen  barbed-wire  fences. 
Pico  has  some  way  of  getting  out  by  a  trail  through 
the  Los  Gatos  caiion  over  here;  takes  all  his  sup 
plies  up  on  burros,  they  say." 


144  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Paul  noticed  that  Miss 
Judith  was  late  in  rising.  As  he  led  Hercules  to 
his  kennel,  he  observed  a  note  pinned  to  the  oak- 
tree  to  which  the  dog's  chain  was  attached.  This 
was  addressed  to  him.  He  opened  it  and  read :  — 

DEAR  MR.  PAUL,  —  Will  you  please  see  that  my 
poultry  has  water  and  food  for  a  week  or  more,  and 
take  my  cow  up  and  keep  her  for  me  until  I  come 
back  ?  Sincerely  yours, 

A.  JUDITH. 

Mr.  Paul  read  this  message  several  times,  then 
saddled  his  horse  and  rode  up  into  the  hills. 

The  previous  evening,  at  nightfall,  Margarita 
Pico  had  crouched  before  the  embers  of  an  open  fire 
in  the  old  adobe,  with  both  hands  pressed  to  her 
ears  to  shut  out  the  moans  and  sighs  of  poor  To- 
masa,  the  youngest  of  her  ninitos,  —  she  that  had 
but  a  week  before  been  the  plumpest  and  rosiest 
of  the  merry  crowd,  but  who  ,now,  alas !  lay  in  her 
mother's  bed,  with  skin  the  color  of  old  parchment, 
save  where  festering  sores  made  hideous  blotches 
upon  it.  There  had  been  another,  younger  than 
Tomasa,  Benito,  but  the  angels  had  smiled  upon 
him  when  he  was  yet  a  babe  whose  age  was  counted 
in  weeks,  and  there  had  been  a  beautiful  funeral 
in  the  old  Mission,  to  which  all  the  kindred  and 
friends  had  come,  and  he  had  been  laid  away  in 
consecrated  ground,  wearing  a  robe  finer  and  more 
spotless  than  any  he  would  have  worn  in  this  world, 
poor  child ;  and  Tomasa,  but  just  weaned,  had  crept 


MISS  JUDITH'S   DISAPPEARANCE  145 

again  into  the  mother's  arms,  and  Margarita  had 
been  comforted.  And  now  little  Tomasa  was  fading 
away,  and  the  mother  heart  would  be  bereft. 

Margarita  herself  had  been  born  of  very  good 
parentage.  Her  parents  had  not  been  exactly  aris 
tocrats,  but  they  had  been  servants  in  the  family  of 
an  aristocrat,  which  is  almost  as  good;  and  their 
children  had  been  reared  with  gentle  manners  and 
a  knowledge  of  the  ways  of  people  of  blue  blood, 
which  is  second  best  to  having  that  blood  in  your 
veins.  As  a  girl  the  young  Margarita  had  been 
extremely  pretty,  with  small  hands  and  feet,  a 
graceful  figure,  abundant  dusky  hair,  beautiful  soft 
brown  eyes,  teeth  like  kernels  of  white  corn,  and 
a  clear  dark  skin,  with  cheeks  as  peachy  as  To- 
masa's  were  when  in  health.  Now  she  was  stout 
and  ungainly,  her  hair  thin  and  threaded  with 
white,  her  bright  eyes  dimmed,  her  teeth  gone,  and 
a  little  network  of  wrinkles  marking  the  outer  cor 
ners  of  her  eyes,  although  she  was  only  thirty-five. 

Margarita  had  married  beneath  her.  All  her 
friends  had  deplored  the  day  when  she  left  the 
parental  roof  to  take  up  life  with  Andronico  Pico, 
a  worthless,  roving  half-breed,  even  then  a  slave  to 
the  vice  which  had  now  brought  him  low;  but  he 
had  wooed  her  with  a  savage  persistence,  and  she 
had  believed  his  fair  promises. 

With  the  gentle  non-resistance  of  the  women  of 
her  race,  Margarita  had  submitted  to  be  dragged 
to  her  husband's  level,  and  the  Pico  house  on  the 
old  toll -road  was  known  far  and  wide  as  a  place 
where  men  met  and  gambled  away  their  hard  earn- 


146  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

ings,  where  strong  drink  was  plentiful  and  other 
fare  meagre,  and  where  children  blossomed  and 
flourished  like  the  golden-cupped  poppies  on  the 
uplands.  It  did  not  comfort  poor  Margarita  to 
remember  that  it  was  one  of  these  visitors,  a  burly 
vaquero  from  across  the  sierra,  whose  money  An- 
dronico  had  won  and  carried  to  the  valley  for  the 
prosecution  of  his  drunken  orgie,  who  had  brought 
the  dread  disease  to  the  children. 

There  came  a  soft  rap  at  the  door.  The  poor 
woman,  with  her  hands  pressed  to  her  ears,  did  not 
hear.  There  was  a  pause,  the  latch  was  lifted,  and 
the  door  gently  pushed  open. 

Margarita  dimly  saw  a  woman's  figure,  halting 
in  the  open  door;  a  graceful,  ethereal  being,  clad 
in  some  light  raiment,  who  hesitated,  as  if  not 
knowing  whether  to  advance  or  retreat. 

Margarita  extended  her  hands,  palms  outward,  in 
a  passion  of  appeal. 

"JVb/    No!    Noahora!     Tomasita  mia  !  " 

But  the  visitor  advanced,  with  a  winning  smile, 
and  now  Margarita  saw  that  this  was  a  flesh-and- 
blood  young  lady,  as  slight  and  girlish  as  she  had 
once  been,  very  simply  dressed  in  a  gown  of  some 
light  tint,  and  with  such  a  heavenly  look  of  compas 
sion  in  the  tender  blue  eyes,  shining  like  stars  out 
of  her  pale  face,  that  the  sad-faced  little  mother 
would  still  have  taken  her  for  an  angel,  come  to 
bear  away  little  Tomasa,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
small  satchel  she  carried  in  her  hand. 

Now  that  Margarita  realized  that  this  strange 
and  beautiful  visitor  was  truly  a  human  being,  a 


MISS  JUDITH'S  DISAPPEARANCE  147 

woman  of  flesh  and  blood,  who  had  come  to  her 
in  the  hour  of  her  extremity,  when  all  her  friends 
had  abandoned  her,  she  tottered  to  Miss  Judith, 
and  stretching  out  her  arms  like  a  tired  child,  laid 
her  head  on  the  girl's  shoulder,  and  sobbed  out  her 
sorrows  in  a  mixture  of  Spanish  and  English. 

"  Oh,  lady,  you  so  kind,  so  good  come  here !  She 
will  die !  Mis  pobrecitos  !  All  so  sick !  Tomasita 
mia  !  Lady,  my  heart  is  like  to  break!  " 

"There!  there!  Poor  little  mother !"  murmured 
Miss  Judith  in  cooing  tones,  whose  language  all  wo 
men  on  earth  know  without  need  of  an  interpreter. 

Margarita  controlled  her  emotion.  She  vaguely 
felt  the  influence  of  a  superior  intelligence,  and 
realized  that  if  she  would  reap  the  benefit  of  the 
young  stranger's  heaven -brought  aid,  she  must  throw 
no  obstacle  in  her  way.  So  she  dried  her  eyes  and 
smoothed  her  tumbled  hair,  and  led  the  way  to  the 
beds  of  the  children,  Tomasa's  last. 

They  stood  long  by  Tomasa's  side.  Margarita 
scarcely  dared  look  up  into  Miss  Judith's  face,  lest 
she  read  there  the  confirmation  of  her  fears. 

Miss  Judith  put  out  her  hand,  her  clean,  white 
hand,  and  laid  it  without  shrinking  on  the  child's 
hot  forehead,  where  ugly  ulcers  blotched  the  parched 
skin.  The  cool  touch  was  grateful  to  the  child. 
She  ceased  for  a  moment  her  low  moan,  and  open 
ing  her  eyes,  gave  the  lady  an  intelligent  look. 

"She  likes  it,"  said  Miss  Judith,  laying  her  cool 
hand  for  an  instant  upon  Margarita's  warm,  flabby 
palm.  Margarita  understood. 

"So  hot!     So  hot!     All  time  like  burn!"  she 


148  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

said,  dramatically  striking  her  own  forehead,  then 
pointing  to  the  child. 

Miss  Judith  opened  her  satchel  and  took  out  a  roll 
of  soft  old  cloth,  a  sponge,  and  a  towel.  Partly 
by  signs,  and  by  uniting  Margarita's  slight  know 
ledge  of  the  English  tongue  with  her  own  slighter 
knowledge  of  Spanish,  she  made  the  mother  under 
stand  that  she  wanted  water.  This  Margarita  has 
tened  to  bring,  in  a  shining  tin  pan.  Miss  Judith 
wet  a  cloth  in  it  and  laid  it  on  the  child's  forehead, 
then  set  the  dish  on  the  hot  stones  of  the  hearth 
until  the  water  was  milk -warm,  dipped  the  sponge 
in  it,  squeezed  it  out,  and  under  cover  of  the  blan 
kets  sponged  the  child's  body  from  head  to  foot, 
following  the  sponge  with  the  towel.  Tomasa,  very 
wide  awake  now,  suffered  this  attention  with  an  ex 
pression  of  great  satisfaction.  Only  once  did  Mar 
garita  venture  a  mild  remonstrance :  — 

"It  no  go  in  —  no ?  "  indicating  the  eruption. 

"Oh,  dear,  no.  It's  the  very  best  thing  in  the 
world  to  bring  it  out,"  responded  the  young  nurse. 

Tomasa  was  very  sleepy  before  the  operation  was 
concluded.  She  sipped  a  little  cool  water  that  Miss 
Judith  held  to  her  lips,  then  lay  back  with  her  eyes 
closed. 

"Lie  down  beside  her.  Sing  to  her,"  suggested 
the  young  lady,  humming  a  soft  little  lullaby  to 
make  her  meaning  clear. 

Margarita's  face  brightened.  Stretching  her  tired 
figure  on  the  coverlet  beside  the  child,  she  crooned 
an  old  Spanish  cradle-song,  in  a  queer,  cracked  lit 
tle  voice  that  nevertheless  thrilled  with  mother  love. 


MISS  JUDITH'S  DISAPPEARANCE  149 

Mr.  Paul  would  have  been  amazed  could  he  have 
seen  Miss  Judith's  face  as  she  listened  with  un 
feigned  pleasure,  looking  from  mother  to  child. 
For  Tomasa  first  smiled,  peeped  from  beneath  her 
fringed  eyelids  at  the  stranger,  and  then  in  a  kitten 
ish  way  cuddled  close  to  her  mother,  and  reached 
out  a  little  burning  hand. 

Margarita's  heart  was  very  full  as  she  felt  the 
little  hand  nestle  upon  her  neck.  The  song  was 
one  she  had  sung  to  her  children  in  turn,  as  she 
held  them  to  her  breast  in  their  all  too  fleeting  in 
fancy.  As  she  crooned  the  simple  melody,  each  of 
them  seemed  to  come  back  to  their  innocent,  confid 
ing  babyhood,  Benito  last,  in  his  fine  white  robe  and 
with  his  arms  extended.  When  Tomasa  at  length 
slumbered,  her  breath  still  coming  and  going  in  the 
harsh  stridency  of  fever,  Margarita  too  for  a  little 
time  forgot  this  world's  cares  and  sorrows  in  sleep. 

Miss  Judith  laid  a  light  quilt  over  the  sleeping 
woman,  hung  a  shawl  where  it  would  shield  the 
blaze  of  the  fire  from  her  face,  and  turned  to  the 
other  patients.  Eduardo  and  Juanito,  sturdy  boys 
of  ten  and  twelve,  Anita  aged  eight,  and  Batisto, 
a  little  scamp  of  six,  had  developed  the  disease  in 
a  vigorous  type,  and  were  in  turn  combating  it  with 
the  vigor  of  healthy  childhood.  Maria,  a  girl  of 
fourteen,  had  a  mild  type  of  the  fever,  and  was 
already  convalescing. 

When  each  of  the  younger  invalids  realized  that 
Miss  Judith's  services  were  at  their  command,  they 
proceeded  to  make  the  most  of  the  opportunity, 
to  Maria's  great  distress.  Eduardo  and  Juanito 


150  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

wanted  their  pillows  constantly  turned,  their  bed 
clothes  straightened,  and  part  of  the  coverings  re 
moved,  and  they  accompanied  these  demands  with 
terrible  Spanish  oaths,  in  startling  contrast  to  their 
cherubic  appearance.  The  window  that  rattled,  one 
of  them  wanted  wedged  tight  and  the  other  con 
tended  must  be  opened.  They  engaged  in  a  wordy 
dispute  as  to  whose  back  ached  the  most  and  who 
was  the  sickest.  Batisto  wanted  a  cloth  on  his 
forehead,  like  Tomasa's,  and  he  wanted  to  see  the 
lady's  watch,  —  no !  not  the  face,  the  works  inside. 
And,  how  did  she  make  the  little  curls  that  fell  over 
her  forehead,  —  with  papers  like  Maria,  or  with  a 
hot  iron  like  his  cousin  Felicia?  And  when  he 
asked  for  a  drink,  why  did  she  give  him  the  agua 
and  not  the  hot  tea,  like  mamma  ? 

Miss  Judith  granted,  and  parried,  and  denied 
these  demands,  as  the  case  required,  and  at  length 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  two  older  boys 
and  Anita  fall  asleep,  while  Batisto  subsided  into 
a  mutinous  silence. 

When  the  young  nurse  had  the  remainder  of  her 
ward  under  control,  she  turned  to  the  soft-voiced 
Maria,  who  was  lying  beside  Anita  in  a  corner  of 
the  great  room,  divided  from  the  boys'  quarters  by 
a  dingy  curtain.  Maria's  eyes  had  long  been  full 
of  solicitude. 

"Mamma,  she  sleep?"  she  anxiously  asked,  in 
her  pretty  broken  English. 

"Yes,  Maria.     Beside  little  Tomasa." 

"I  so  glad!"  cried  the  unselfish  girl.  "She 
work  —  work  all  day,  all  night  the  same.  And  in 


MISS  JUDITH'S  DISAPPEARANCE  151 

her  arms  she  carry  Tomasa,  oh,  so  much !  Tomasa 
she  no  like  it  lie  in  the  bed,  and  she  cry,  cry  all 
time,  only  mamma  carry  her.  Tomasa  very  sick!  " 
and  the  girl's  face  was  sad. 

"  Yes,  Maria.  But  she  breathes  better  now.  In 
the  morning  she  may  be  better." 

From  Maria  Miss  Judith  learned  that  Josefa  and 
Panchito,  the  seven-year  old  twins,  had  been  visit 
ing  their  aunt  in  town  when  the  family  were  stricken 
down,  and  that  the  good  woman  was  keeping  them 
from  the  contagion. 

When  Maria  at  length  slept,  Miss  Judith  made 
an  inspection  of  the  premises,  to  determine  the  sani 
tary  condition  of  the  impromptu  hospital.  This  in 
spection  was  on  the  whole  not  unsatisfactory.  The 
building  was  open  to  the  rafters,  but  this  insured  a 
good  circulation  of  air,  and  the  big  chimney  and 
the  shake  roof  and  the  chinks  about  the  windows 
contributed  to  present  a  passable  system  of  ventila 
tion.  The  large  kitchen  and  eating-room  in  one, 
which  formed  the  second  apartment  of  the  house, 
was  as  sweet  and  clean  as  it  could  reasonably  be 
kept.  The  spring  that  furnished  the  household  sup 
ply  of  water  was  but  a  few  paces  from  the  back 
door.  Best  of  all,  for  the  weather  was  chill,  there 
was  an  abundant  supply  of  fuel. 

When  she  returned  to  the  main  living-room  and 
sleeping-room,  she  built  up  the  fire,  which  was  get 
ting  low,  and,  sitting  down  by  the  hearth,  patiently 
watched  out  the  rest  of  the  night. 

When  the  gray  light  of  dawn  came  through  the 
window,  little  Tomasa  suddenly  aroused  and  sat 
upright  in  her  bed. 


152  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"Mamma  !  Tengo  hambre  I  Came  !  Mamma  !  " 1 
she  cried  out  fiercely. 

Margarita  was  instantly  awake.  ,  She  tried  to 
draw  the  little  figure  down  under  the  covers,  but 
the  child  resisted,  struggling  to  free  her  arms,  and 
calling  again  loudly  and  shrilly  for  carne  ! 

Miss  Judith  could  not  understand  the  child's 
words,  but  she  comprehended  the  meaning  of  the 
cry.  She  watched  Margarita  as  the  latter  hastened 
into  the  rear  room,  where  she  heard  her  fumbling 
at  the  cupboard.  Presently  she  reappeared  with  a 
plate,  and  on  the  plate —  Miss  Judith  gave  an 
exclamation  of  horror. 

"Oh,  no,  no!  Surely  you  wouldn't  give  that 
little  sick  child  ham  to  eat?  " 

"She  want  it.  She  ask  for  him,"  returned  Mar 
garita  placidly,  still  bent  on  gratifying  the  little 
child's  whim. 

"It  would  kill  her.  Her  stomach  —  oh,  how  can 
I  make  you  understand?  Maria!  Maria!"  gently 
rousing  the  sleepy  girl,  "tell  me,  what  do  you  call 
milk  in  Spanish?" 

"Leche!  "  answered  the  drowsy  voice. 

"Leche!  leche,  Margarita!  No  meat!  Doctor 
say  no  meat!"  shaking  her  head  as  she  pointed  to 
the  offending  dish.  "iecAe,  Margarita!  leche  — 
no?" 

"  Si  !     Si  I  "  was  the  laughing  reply. 

The  mother  disappeared  again  into  the  back  room. 
When  she  returned,  she  brought  a  mug  of  milk. 

The  young  lady  warmed  this  on  the  hearth,  de- 

1  "  Mamma !     I  am  hungry.     Meat !     Mamma !  " 


MISS  JUDITH'S   DISAPPEARANCE  153 

spite  the  little  girl's  impatient  demands.  When  she 
finally  lifted  it  to  the  small  invalid's  lips,  the  child 
drained  it  to  the  last  drop. 

"Man  he  come!"  announced  Margarita,  with  a 
puzzled  look,  a  little  later.  "Me  no  spik  Ingles." 

Miss  Judith  hastened  to  the  door,  and  found  Mr. 
Paul.  When  he  saw  her,  he  sprang  from  his  pant 
ing  horse,  whose  flanks  were  dripping  sweat,  and 
came  towards  her,  looking  stern  and  disapproving. 
The  instant  she  recognized  him,  she  retreated. 

"Don't  come  any  nearer,  Mr.  Paul,  I  beg  of 
you !  You  're  directly  in  the  breeze  that  sweeps 
past  the  house  —  past  me !  " 

"Nonsense!"  cried  the  young  man  savagely. 
"Do  you  think,"  he  demanded,  "that  I  will  hesitate 
to  go  where  a  woman  leads  the  way  ?  " 

"But  there  isn't  the  least  need"  —  edging  off 
from  him  as  she  spoke  —  "  for  you  to  expose  your 
self  to  the  contagion.  It 's  sheer  foolhardiness." 

"Miss  Judith!"  said  the  young  man,  grasping 
her  hands  and  looking  her  full  in  the  face,  while 
her  eyes  shrank  from  meeting  his.  "What  did  you 
come  up  here  for?  " 

"They  needed  me.  You  yourself  told  me  of  poor 
Mrs.  Pico's  extremity." 

Mr.  Paul  muttered  an  imprecation  upon  his  own 
folly. 

"But  you,"  cried  Miss  Judith, —  "you  have  done 
this  thing  needlessly  and  without  purpose.  You 
have  no  possible  object  or  justification.  Why  don't 
you  go  away?" 

"I  will!"  he  said  curtly,  turning   on   his  heel. 


154  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

But  he  reconsidered  the  act  and  wheeled  about 
again. 

"So  you  '11  not  even  accept  me  as  a  helper?" 

"Oh,  it 's  a  woman's  work,"  said  Miss  Judith. 

"But  you  can't  do  everything.  You'll  need 
supplies  and  a  messenger  to  town.  It 's  absurd  to 
think  of  living  up  here  cut  off  from  all  connection 
with  people." 

"You  should  see  the  supplies  we  have!"  ex 
claimed  the  volunteer  nurse,  her  face  dimpling  with 
sudden  recollection.  "The  people  of  the  valley 
have  been  lavish  with  pies  and  cakes,  and  spices, 
and  baked  meats.  We  have  everything  for  a  feast ; 
the  only  drawback  is  that  there  are  n6  banqueters ! 
But  there  is  n't  a  particle  of  corn-meal  or  oat-meal, 
or  anything  to  make  gruel  of,  in  the  house.  And 
nobody  has  thought  to  send  any  old  cloth." 

"Then  let  me  get  what  you  need,"  urged  the 
young  man  eagerly. 

"If  you  could  find  time  to  come  up  once  a  day 
to  take  down  any  little  list  I  may  prepare  "  —  con 
ceded  the  lady. 

"I  will  take  time." 

"  But  you  must  promise  to  come  only  to  a  certain 
place,  —  say  that  clump  of  elders  below  the  spring, 
where  there  will  be  no  danger  of  further  exposure/' 

"While  you  are  hanging  over  the  beds  of  those 
sick  children,  inhaling  disease  with  every  breath." 

"  Could  it  make  my  danger  less  if  you  shared  it  ? 
You're  very  irrational,"  said  Miss  Judith.  "The 
best  and  kindest  thing  you  could  do  would  be  to 
keep  well  and  strong,  so  as  to  be  able  to  take  care 


MISS  JUDITH'S   DISAPPEARANCE  155 

of  me  if  I  should  fall  sick,  or  see  that  I  had  proper 
care." 

"I  will  do  just  as  you  say,"  said  Mr.  Paul  hum 
bly.  "But  spare  yourself  all  you  can,  my  little 
woman.  If  the  lives  of  all  the  Picos  should  be 
saved  —  at  the  expense  of  yours  "  — 

"They  would  be  cheaply  bought,"  said  the  girl 
positively,  and  a  shadow  came  over  her  face.  But 
as  she  turned  to  go  into  the  house,  he*  noted  the  tired 
droop  of  her  shoulders,  the  expression  of  one  labor 
ing  under  a  hopeless  burden  of  sorrow. 

The  doctor  came  at  noon.  He  made  his  way  at 
once  to  little  Tomasa's  side.  The  child  was  par 
tially  propped  up  on  pillows,  holding  in  her  arms 
a  cherished  doll  of  Maria's.  Although  still  very 
sick  and  painfully  'disfigured,  she  was  the  picture 
of  content. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  my  patient?  "  he 
gruffly  asked  Miss  Judith,  who  had  followed  him  to 
the  bedside. 

"Very  little,  doctor,"  returned  the  young  lady, 
alarmed  at  his  tone  and  manner.  "I  know  so  little 
of  disease  or  sickness  that  I  could  only  do  what  it 
seemed  to  me  I  would  like  to  have  done  for  myself. 
I  sponged  her  a  little,  and  kept  her  head  cool,  and 
her  feet  warm,  and  saw  that  she  had  milk  instead 
of  ham  "  — 

At  the  mention  of  this  latter  dish  the  physician 
threw  up  his  hands.  She  misunderstood  his  action. 

"If  I  have  made  any  mistake"  —  she  faltered. 
"  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  tried.  I  've  had  so 
little  experience  "  — 


156  THE  BLACK    CURTAIN 

"Mistake!  "  exclaimed  the  doctor.  He  timed 
the  child's  pulse,  and  took  her  temperature,  and 
drew  away  her  clothing  to  look  at  chest  and  stom 
ach,  where  the  eruption  had  been  scant  and  dull. 

"Miss  Judith,"  he  said  frankly,  "I  expected  to 
find  this  child  dead  or  dying  this  morning.  With 
care  she  is  going  to  live." 

Margarita  understood,  and  knelt  thankfully  be 
side  the  baby,  placing  her  arms  around  her.  The 
young  nurse's  eyes  were  moist.  The  doctor  took 
a  hasty  survey  of  his  remaining  patients,  gave  some 
brief  instructions,  and  moved  towards  the  door. 

"It 's  a  blessing  to  have  some  one  who  can  under 
stand  English,  and  with  sufficient  intelligence  to 
carry  out  directions  when  I  give  them,"  he  said. 
"Half  the  mortality  among  these  people  is  due  to 
their  ignorance  and  carelessness.  If  it  were  not 
for  their  healthy  outdoor  life,  the  race  would  soon 
be  extinct." 

The  battle  was  by  no  means  over.  There  were 
days  and  nights  of  tireless  watching,  of  ceaseless 
and  menial  service,  of  patient  self-sacrifice,  for  Miss 
Judith,  before  the  last  patient  was  well  on  the  road 
to  recovery.  To  go  into  the  comfortable  chamber 
of  the  rich,  surrounded  by  every  convenience  and 
with  servants  within  call,  and  to  minister  to  the 
wants  of  the  suffering,  is  a  task  that  often  tries  the 
most  patient  nurse.  To  enter  the  hovel  of  the  poor, 
share  its  homely  drudgery  and  its  deprivations,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  render  faithful  service  to  a 
squad  of  young  invalids,  is  a  task  to  try  an  angel, 
and  Miss  Judith's  wings  had  not  more  than  sprouted. 


MISS  JUDITH'S  DISAPPEARANCE  157 

In  spite  of  all  the  adverse  conditions,  chief  of 
which  was  the  smiling  indifference  of  the  little 
Spanish  mother,  Miss  Judith  contrived  to  introduce 
a  certain  system  into  the  ill-regulated  household. 
Each  day  the  floor  was  neatly  brushed  and  the 
hearth  swept,  wild  flowers  gathered  and  put  in  a  jar 
on  the  table,  lending  new  grace  to  the  dim,  bare 
room,  and  all  the  litter  made  by  the  convalescents 
was  put  away  in  an  orderly  fashion.  So  untaught 
were  the  children  in  all  that  goes  to  make  up  the 
refinements  of  civilization  that  she  often  felt  herself 
at  the  mercy  of  a  horde  of  savages. 

Eduardo  and  Juanito  were  still  in  bed,  and  Maria 
feebly  creeping  about,  when  Margarita  herself 
drooped,  refusing  food,  and  taking  to  her  bed. 

"Miss  Judith,  you  are  already  worn  out,  and 
ought  to  be  discharged,"  said  the  physician  that 
day,  viewing  her  doubtfully. 

"Not  while  there  is  anything  left  to  be  done!" 
replied  the  lady  bravely. 

"It's  a  shame  to  ask  it,  but  do  you  think  you 
can  help  me  through  this  case?  " 

"I '11  try,  doctor." 

That  night  another  baby  was  born  into  the  old 
adobe,  a  puny  little  boy,  whom  the  mother  gathered 
to  her  breast  as  gladly  and  proudly  as  if  he  had 
been  her  firstborn. 

Toward  morning,  when  Miss  Judith  went  to  see 
if  mother  and  child  were  comfortable,  she  found 
Margarita  wide  awake,  but  in  a  deep  reverie.  She 
stretched  out  her  hand  and  patted  the  girl's  slender 
fingers. 


158  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"You  good  me.  Good  lady.  Muy  bonito  baby. 
No?" 

"Very  pretty!  "  approved  Miss  Judith. 

"I  been  think  I  name  him  Andronico,  for  my 
poor  man !  "  And  Margarita  began  to  weep. 

So  Andronico,  languishing  in  the  county  jail, 
where  there  was  neither  drink  nor  cards,  had  his 
sorrows  assuaged  by  the  tidings  that  a  son  and 
namesake  had  been  born  to  him  that  day. 

What  did  it  matter  that  a  month  later  the  baby 
died?  He  was  buried  in  a  fine  white  robe  like 
Benito's,  and  in  a  white  and  gilt  coffin  whose  splen 
dor  dazzled  Margarita's  eyes. 

This  coffin  was  Andronico 's  peace-offering  to  his 
family  when  he  returned  to  its  bosom  after  serving 
out  his  term  of  exile.  Its  magnificence  so  capti 
vated  Margarita  that  in  recounting  its  glory  she 
quite  forgot  the  little  baby  who  slumbered  so  peace 
fully  against  its  satin  lining,  calling  it  by  turns 
Benito  and  Andronico.  What  would  you  have? 
Did  she  not  still  have  Tomasita? 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  MYSTERIOUS  TRYST 

'"!T  must  seem  good  to  be  out  of  doors  after 
breathing  that  polluted  atmosphere  for  weeks,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Paul,  coming  upon  Miss  Judith,  who 
was  diligently  pruning  a  climbing  rose  whose  crim 
son  blooms  already  reached  the  door  sill  of  her  eyrie. 

"The  wonder  is  that  people  ever  live  in  houses," 
rejoined  the  girl.  "I  have  burned  every  thread  I 
wore  up  there,  but  I  feel  as  if  I  myself  ought  to  be 
aired  and  fumigated." 

"My  promised  occupation  has  not  materialized. 
You  don't  show  any  symptoms  of  sickness." 

"No.  The  doctor's  disinfectants  may  have  had 
something  to  do  with  it,  but  nature  helped.  When 
ever  I  caught  an  hour's  rest,  it  was  out  in  the 
sunshine,  lying  on  a  blanket  under  a  bush  or  tree. 
The  fresh  air  I  drew  into  my  lungs  drove  all  the 
microbes  out.  I  can't  get  enough  of  it  now."  And 
she  stood  erect  and  drew  a  long,  deep  breath. 

"Then  come  with  me  on  a  drive  down  to  the  vil 
lage.  I  promise  you  your  fill  all  the  way." 

She  hesitated.  A  hundred  little  unfulfilled  duties 
claimed  her ;  but  the  day  was  charming,  the  invita 
tion  alluring,  and  human  nature  weak. 

The  road  zigzagged  down  the  mesa,  entering  a 
thicket  of  mountain  lilacs  hastened  into  premature 


160  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

bloom  by  the  mild  December  sunshine.  The  clus 
ters  of  delicate  blue  blossoms  brushed  against  them, 
filling  the  air  with  their  sweetness.  Mr.  Paul 
broke  off  a  little  branch  and  placed  it  in  her  hand. 

"Pure  and  fragrant  as  the  perfume  of  a  good 
woman's  life !  "  he  reverently  remarked. 

Miss  Judith  made  no  reply,  but  held  the  blooms 
to  her  face.  The  simple  tribute  appealed  to  her, 
and  brought  her  dangerously  near  to  tears. 

Modestly  laboring  in  the  squalid  adobe,  she  had 
little  guessed  the  sensation  that  her  course  had  cre 
ated  in  the  small  community  below.  As  they  drove 
through  the  village  streets,  she  found  herself  the 
recipient  of  an  uncomfortable  amount  of  attention. 
Hats  were  everywhere  lifted,  and  heads  bowed  low 
as  she  passed.  Children  stared  at  her.  Women 
left  their  marketing  or  shopping  to  solicitously  in 
quire  after  her  health  and  to  applaud  her  courage. 
It  was  a  relief  when  they  at  length  escaped  from 
the  thickly  populated  quarter  and  took  their  way 
in  the  direction  of  the  lower  settlement,  where  a 
miscellaneous  collection  of  warehouses  clustered  near 
the  railroad,  and  where  Mr.  Paul  wished  to  negoti 
ate  for  seed  for  his  spring  planting. 

Near  the  station,  on  the  edge  of  the  salt  marsh, 
a  rude  camp  had  been  established  under  a  clump 
of  willows.  Cooking  operations  were  in  progress, 
and  they  could  see  around  the  open  fire  a  gang  of 
tramps  grouped.  A  young  man,  better  dressed 
than  the  others,  stood  a  little  apart,  looking  up  the 
road.  As  he  heard  the  rattle  of  cart-wheels,  he 
gave  a  hasty  glance  at  the  occupants,  then  quickly 


A  MYSTERIOUS  TRYST  161 

wheeled  about,  turning  his  back  to  them.  Miss 
Judith  bent  over  and  looked  back  at  him  as  they 
passed.  As  they  approached  the  station,  she  spoke 
in  what  she  tried  to  make  a  brisk,  business-like  tone, 
but  which  sounded  very  weak  and  tremulous :  — 

"Please  stop  at  the  depot.  I  must  see  the  agent 
about  something.  Wait  at  the  warehouse  for  me 
until  I  come." 

Something  in  this  sudden  resolve  and  unexpected 
statement  impressed  Mr.  Paul  with  its  insincerity. 
He  helped  her  out,  and  drove  slowly  on,  without 
looking  behind  him.  Had  he  done  so,  he  might 
have  seen  Miss  Judith  walk  straight  through  the 
depot  and  out  upon  the  opposite  platform,  where  a 
path  led  off  over  the  fields. 

Mr.  Paul  finished  his  business  at  the  warehouse, 
and  decided  to  disregard  Miss  Judith's  request  and 
return  to  the  depot  for  her.  Indeed,  he  was  quite 
sure  that  she  could  by  no  possibility  find  the  station 
agent  in  at  that  hour,  as  no  train  was  due  until 
late  that  night.  For  this  reason  it  surprised  him  a 
little  that  he  did  not  meet  her  coming  along  the  road. 
As  he  had  expected,  the  office  was  closed  and  the 
station  deserted.  Moved  by  a  vague  apprehension, 
he  drove  rapidly  back  to  where  they  had  seen  the 
tramps'  encampment.  In  the  edge  of  the  field  Miss 
Judith  stood,  talking  with  the  man  they  had  seen. 
Her  hand  was  on  his  arm,  and  her  whole  attitude 
seemed  to  be  one  of  entreaty.  Apparently  the  fel 
low  yielded  a  sullen  consent,  for  he  awkwardly  lifted 
his  hat,  and  Miss  Judith,  not  seeing  Mr.  Paul, 
turned  and  walked  swiftly  back  in  the  direction  of 


162  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

the  station.  To  whip  up  his  horse  and  fly  back 
over  the  road,  screened  by  the  willows  which  lined 
the  fence,  was  the  work  of  a  few  moments,  and  Mr. 
Paul  was  waiting  there  in  patience  when  she  came. 

The  girl's  veil  was  tightly  drawn,  and  Mr.  Paul 
felt  sure,  without  seeing  her  face,  that  she  had  been 
crying.  With  exceeding  delicacy  he  did  not  appear 
to  notice  that  anything  was  amiss,  but  drove  along 
back  streets  until  they  gained  the  quiet  and  privacy 
of  the  hills. 

The  sun  was  low  on  the  horizon,  and  the  chill  of 
night  was  in  the  air.  He  picked  up  an  extra  robe 
that  he  carried  and  wrapped  it  about  her  shoulders, 
—  an  attention  that  she  recognized  with  murmured 
thanks.  They  had  reached  the  mesa,  climbed  the 
last  terrace,  and  drawn  up  in  the  shelter  of  the 
oaks  before  she  spoke  or  seemed  to  acknowledge 
his  presence. 

It  is  not  in  human  nature  to  heartily  sympathize 
with  hidden  suffering.  Mr.  Paul  could  not  free 
himself  from  a  feeling  that  Miss  Judith  had  not 
shown  proper  confidence  in  him. 

"I  am  afraid  the  ride  has  been  too  much  for 
you,"  he  said,  as  he  lifted  her  from  the  cart. 

"No,  oh,  no!"  she  protested,  in  a  dreary  little 
voice.  "The  fresh  air  is  always  good  for  one.  It 
was  kind  of  you  to  take  me." 

"Then  I  shall  expect  you  to  go  again,"  he  said 
politely,  occupying  himself  with  a  refractory  buckle 
on  the  harness. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  never  wanted  to  go  anywhere 
again,"  said  the  girl  wearily,  her  voice  breaking. 


A  MYSTERIOUS  TRYST  163 

The  young  man  made  no  response  or  comment. 

Miss  Judith  pulled  a  handful  of  lettuce  leaves 
and  fed  them  to  the  sorrel.  Mr.  Paul  waited, 
ready  to  twist  the  hitching-rope  into  a  hackamore 
about  the  animal's  nose. 

"  I  wish  I  could  consult  you  about  something, 
Mr.  Paul,"  she  said  at  length  desperately. 

"If  my  advice  would  be  of  any  benefit,  I  am  sure 
you  are  welcome  to  it,"  he  replied  stiffly. 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly,  but  shook  her 
head  sadly. 

"No,  no.  It  would  never  do.  Men  are  too  hard 
on  men.  They  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  be  char 
itable  and  forgiving." 

With  this  equivocal  statement  she  left  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A   STOEMY   INTERVIEW 

MR.  PAUL  went  along  the  canon  trail  feeling 
decidedly  uncomfortable.  He  knew  that  his  man 
ner  had  not  been  such  as  to  invite  Miss  Judith's 
confidence,  and  he  could  not  blind  himself  to  the 
fact  that  she  seemed  greatly  in  need  of  a  wise  and 
sympathetic  counselor.  But  he  could  not  conceive 
of  a  more  distasteful  office  than  to  advise  Miss 
Judith  in  an  affair  involving  another  man. 

As  he  went  about  his  chores  that  night,  other 
misgivings  assailed  him.  What  relation  did  this 
strange  man  bear  to  the  girl,  that  he  should  be 
capable  of  causing  her  such  sorrow?  He  was 
plainly  some  one  near  and  dear,  for  she  had  placed 
her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  had  humbled  herself  so 
far  as  to  plead  with  him.  Was  it  some  unworthy 
lover,  or  could  he  hold  a  nearer  and  dearer  tie  ?  In 
this  Western  land  women  were  often  married  and 
divorced,  and  resumed  their  maiden  names,  and 
new  friends  were  none  the  wiser.  This  suspicion 
he  instantly  put  away  as  unworthy  of  himself  and 
impossible  to  her.  Whatever  secret  her  life  held, 
deceit  had  no  part  in  it,  he  knew.  What  a  heroic 
soul  she  was,  loyal  to  the  call  of  duty,  facing  hor 
rors  from  which  others  fled,  patiently  devoting  her 
self  to  the  service  of  the  lowly,  then  serenely  return- 


A  STORMY   INTERVIEW  165 

ing  to  her  own  simple  duties !  He  had  acted  like  a 
churl  when  she  had  been  ready  to  bestow  her  confi 
dence  upon  him.  He  resolved  that  he  would  go 
up  to  the  paper  cottage  that  very  night,  and  humbly 
ask  her  to  trust  him,  assuring  her  of  his  stanch 
support  and  sympathy,  whatever  the  troubles  that 
beset  her. 

It  was  later  than  he  expected  when  he  finished 
his  work  that  night,  so  late  that  he  was  afraid  his 
neighbor,  who  kept  early  hours,  might  have  retired, 
and  he  hastened  over  the  trail,  walking  lightly, 
that  he  might  not  disturb  her  in  case  she  should 
have  already  sought  her  couch.  As  he  reached  the 
top  of  the  trail,  he  saw  that  her  light  was  still 
burning  brightly,  but  the  next  instant  he  paused  in 
consternation,  for  in  the  vicinity  of  the  oak-tree 
he  could  plainly  hear  two  voices,  a  man's  and  a 
woman's,  raised  in  excited  argument. 

Mr.  Paul's  first  impulse  was  to  retreat  as  quietly 
as  he  had  come.  He  remembered  Miss  Judith's 
lonely  and  unprotected  situation.  Upon  what  er 
rand  had  this  strange  visitor  come,  who  had  thus 
invaded  the  peace  and  privacy  of  her  home  ? 

Two  figures  were  standing  under  the  oaks.  He 
knew  the  slight  girlish  form  to  be  Miss  Judith's, 
but  so  changed  was  her  voice  that  he  could  not  have 
recognized  it. 

So  absorbed  were  the  pair  in  impassioned  speech 
that  they  did  not  heed  him  as  he  walked  towards 
them.  Hesitating  for  a  moment,  he  stepped  for 
ward  and  boldly  presented  himself  before  them.  The 
light  from  the  open  door  of  the  cottage  streamed 


166  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

down  upon  them,  making  a  luminous  circle  in  which 
the  two  figures  stood.  Miss  Judith  was  facing  a 
boy,  a  lad  of  man's  stature,  but  with  a  boy's  hand 
some,  unformed,  shamefaced,  indecisive  counte 
nance. 

The  young  fellow  shrank  back,  surprised  and 
silenced  at  Mr.  Paul's  intrusion.  His  appearance 
did  not  startle  or  dismay  the  girl.  Perhaps,  in  her 
tense  mood,  it  was  a  momentary  comfort  to  find 
some  one  upon  whom  she  could  call  to  witness  her 
despair  and  shame. 

"See  him!  "  she  cried.  "My  brother  —  my  only 
brother,  Mr.  Paul.  The  boy  my  mother  gave  me 
as  a  sacred  charge  upon  her  dying  bed.  The  pride 
of  my  girlhood,  the  hope  of  my  womanhood.  The 
only  living  person  to  inherit  and  hand  down  our 
name.  Oh,  that  I  should  have  to  say  it!  —  he  is 
a  thief.  A  self-confessed  thief,  who  has  robbed  the 
employer  who  trusted  him.  Look  at  him!  See 
dishonor  written  in  his  face.  A  thief  and  a  coward, 
running  away  from  the  just  consequences  of  the 
crime  he  has  committed.  Oh,  go!  go!"  she  sud 
denly  cried,  turning  upon  the  lad,  her  hand  uplifted 
as  if  to  banish  him  forever  from  her  sight. 

"I  'm  willing,"  said  the  boy  doggedly.  "I  did  n't 
want  to  come  up  here.  You  know  I  didn't.  It 
was  accident  that  brought  me  to  the  station.  I 
was  trying  to  keep  out  of  your  sight,  trying  to  get 
out  of  the  country.  You  followed  me  and  made  me 
promise." 

There  were  unshed  tears  in  his  eyes.  His  flushed 
face  quivered.  Miss  Judith  did  not  see.  She  went 
on  in  the  same  strained  voice :  — 


A   STORMY   INTERVIEW  167 

"You  have  ruined  your  life,  Rob,  and  mine.  Dis 
graced  our  name!  I  can  never  hold  up  my  head 
again.  I  never  want  to  see  your  face  again  as  long 
as  I  live  .  .  .  never  hear  your  voice  "  — 

"Be  silent!"  commanded  Mr.  Paul  sternly,  lay 
ing  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

Miss  Judith  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying, — what 
you  are  doing !  Go  back  to  the  house.  Leave  him 
to  me." 

He  had  taken  her  hand,  and  was  leading  her, 
unresisting,  to  the  foot  of  her  stair.  All  her  fierce 
indignation  and  passionate  resentment  seemed  to 
die  away  at  his  touch. 

Bowing  meekly  under  his  reproof,  and  without 
speaking,  possessed  now  only  by  hopeless  sorrow, 
she  suffered  him  to  guide  her.  On  the  stair  he 
paused  for  a  hasty  word. 

"You  don't  understand  boys.  Women  never  do. 
Go  to  work  and  get  that  lad  the  cosiest  little  supper 
you  can.  He 's  hungry  and  tired.  He  '11  never 
forget  it.  Be  cheerful  and  pleasant  when  we  come 
back.  Don't  say  another  word  about  this  trouble !  " 

Mr.  Paul  hastened  back  to  where  he  had  left  the 
young  fellow,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 


CHAPTER   XX 

BOY  AND  MAN 

ALONG  the  bluff,  where  the  road  took  its  first 
plunge  towards  the  valley,  the  young  man  could 
dimly  see  a  moving  figure,  fast  vanishing  into  the 
night.  Mr.  Paul  was  but  an  instant  in  deciding 
upon  his  course.  He  took  a  bridle-path  through 
the  chaparral,  and  in  a  few  minutes  came  face  to 
face  with  the  boy,  who  was  recklessly  making  his 
way  to  the  coast. 

"Rob,  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

"Oh,  I'm  going!"  said  the  lad  defiantly. 
"Straight  to  perdition,  where  she's  sending  me. 
I've  got  over  a  good  piece  of  the  road  already!" 
and  he  laughed  harshly. 

Mr.  Paul  laid  his  hand  on  the  fugitive's  arm. 

"Come  with  me!" 

"I  beg  to  be  excused." 

"Come  with  me!" 

"Not  much!" 

"Come  with  me." 

"I  won't." 

"Come  with  me!  "  The  grasp  of  his  hand  tight 
ened. 

"  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  will!" 

"You  '11  be  hanged  if  you  won't." 

Rob   wrenched    himself    free,    and    would    have 


BOY   AND   MAN  169 

started  on  a  run  for  the  valley,  when  the  clenched 
fist  of  a  trained  boxer  shot  through  the  air  and  fell 
like  lightning  on  him,  and  he  measured  his  length 
across  the  road. 

"How  do  you  feel  now?"  asked  Mr.  Paul  anx 
iously,  a  few  minutes  later. 

Robert  Judith  was  sitting  propped  up  against  the 
bank  at  the  roadside,  very  much  dazed,  while  Mr. 
Paul  was  applying  his  own  handkerchief,  dipped  in 
cold  water,  to  a  big  bruise  on  the  side  of  the  lad's 
head. 

"All  right,  I  guess,"  replied  Rob  doubtfully. 
"What  happened  to  me,  anyhow?" 

"I  think  I  took  the  right  spot,"  said  Mr.  Paul, 
still  a  little  solicitous,  comparing  the  two  sides  of 
the  boy's  skull.  "The  moonlight  is  deceptive,  and 
you  dodged  just  as  my  fist  came  down." 

"You  're  a  queer  fellow !  "  said  the  lad,  after  a  few 
minutes'  silence,  noting  the  tenderness  of  the  man's 
ministrations.  "What  did  you  do  it  for,  anyway?  " 

"It  would  be  better  to  kill  you  outright  than  to 
have  you  return  to  that  kind  of  life,"  replied  Mr. 
Paul  frankly. 

Rob  laughed  again,  and  this  time  there  was  no 
thing  but  healthy  amusement  in  the  sound.  But  the 
light  mood  passed  swiftly  away. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me?  "  he  asked. 

"I  want  to  take  you  up  into  the  hills  and  make 
a  man  of  you." 

"You  can't.  She  's  tried.  Others  have  tried. 
I  've  tried,  —  God  knows  I  've  tried !  It's  always 
a  losing  game." 


170  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"Tell  me  aU  about  it,  Bob." 

"Cards,  and  wine  —  and  then  stronger  drink. 
Some  of  the  men  got  hold  of  us  boys.  I  was  get 
ting  a  fair  salary  this  time,  and  had  begun  a  little 
bank  account.  I  'd  kept  fairly  straight,  but  always 
wasted  all  I  ma'de  before.  With  money  in  bank, 
I  felt  as  if  I  'd  made  a  real  start.  But  they  found 
it  out.  It  all  went,  and  more.  They  called  them 
debts  of  honor,  and  taunted  me  about  them.  I 
knew  the  combination  of  the  safe.  Captain  Nor- 
cross  trusted  me." 

"Norcross,  of  the  Great  Western  Traffic  and 
Navigation  Company?" 

Rob  nodded. 

"A  decent  old  chap,  but  a  queer  manager.  Gives 
his  clerks  their  head,  then  reins  them  up  short,  and 
wants  to  shoot  them  when  they  jump  the  traces. 
How  much  was  it,  Rob  ?  " 

"Thirty -five  hundred.  There  were  three  of  us. 
The  others  got  most  all  the  money,  or  I  'd  have  been 
out  of  the  country  before  this.  The  officers  are  on 
the  watch  for  us  everywhere.  I  don't  see  how  I 
got  this  far." 

"Suppose  you  get  out  of  the  country.  What 
then?" 

"Where  people  didn't  know  me  I  could  make  a 
fresh  start,  maybe;  and  live  right,  and  build  up  a 
good  reputation  "  — 

"Knowing  all  the  time  that  you  were  a  liar  and 
hypocrite,  and  had  left  this  unpaid  debt  behind 
you,  to  the  world  and  to  society,"  supplied  the 
man. 


BOY  AND  MAN  171 

"Oh,  I  know  it's  no  use,"  said  the  boy  desper 
ately.  "But  there  are  other  things  one  can  do." 

"As,  for  instance?" 

"Better  let  me  go,  Mr.  Paul.  I  promise  you 
I  '11  keep  straight.  I  give  you  my  word,  this  is  the 
last  thing  I  '11  ever  do  to  disgrace  my  friends.  The 
moon's  setting,  and  there  's  only  enough  light  to 
show  me  the  way  to  the  camp." 

The  young  fellow  stood  up,  looking  very  erect 
and  manly. 

"I'll  let  you  go  only  on  condition  that  you'll 
confide  your  plans  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Paul. 

"Oh,  I  know  it's  no  use  my  trying  to  do  any 
thing  more,"  said  the  boy  sadly.  "But  I  do  know 
a  fellow  who  will  sleep  in  the  shed  at  the  station  to 
night,  who  has  a  revolver  that  shoots  straight.  I 
don't  think  he  '11  mind  my  using  a  single  cartridge." 

His  voice  was  steady,  and  the  grim  purpose  with 
which  he'  had  started  out  could  be  plainly  read  in 
his  young  face,  as  the  moonlight  fell  full  upon  it. 

"And  break  your  sister's  heart?" 

"It's  broken  already.     Do  you  think  I  didn't 
care  to-night?     Every  word  she  said  went  through 
me  like  a  knife.     She  shan't  suffer  any  more  on  my 
account." 

Mr.  Paul  threw  an  arm  around  the  boy's  shoul 
der,  with  a  gesture  of  comradeship. 

"Rob,  why  do  you  suppose  your  sister  came  up 
here?" 

"I  don't  know.     I  never  thought,"  said  the  boy. 

"I  never  knew  before.  It  has  puzzled  me  very 
much  to  see  a  young,  gently  bred,  delicate  woman 


172  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

like  her,  coming  up  into  this  wild  country  and  try 
ing  to  establish  a  home.  She  has  worked  very 
hard,  Rob,  and  cheerfully  performed  many  tasks 
that  few  women  would  undertake.  And  she  put  so 
much  enthusiasm  into  her  work,  —  her  home-build 
ing!  One  day,  several  weeks  ago,  a  letter  came, 
and  before  she  had  finished  reading  it  she  fainted 
away.  Do  you  know  what  was  in  that  letter,  Rob  ?  " 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  the  boy,  in  a  choked  voice. 

"Then  I  knew  there  was  somebody,  somewhere, 
she  was  thinking  of  as  she  toiled,"  continued  Mr. 
Paul.  "But  from  that  day  all  the  heart  seemed  to 
have  gone  out  of  her  work.  Rob,  I  believe  she 
came  up  here  to  try  to  make  a  home  for  you,  —  she, 
that  frail,  delicate  little  woman!  " 

"Poor  little  Amy!  "  said  he,  gulping  down  a  sob. 

Amy !  Amy  Judith !  It  was  the  first  time  Mr. 
Paul  .had  heard  her  Christian  name.  How  the 
pretty  girlish  name  softened  and  sweetened  the  aus 
tere  surname. 

"Rob,"  he  said,  "do  you  know  what  life  in  the 
hills  is  like;  do  you  know  what  it  is  to  dwell  on 
these  sunny  heights,  apart  from  all  temptation, 
where  the  days  are  filled  with  healthy  work  and 
healthy  thoughts,  and  the  nights  bring  sweetest 
rest?  Can  you  fancy  what  it  is  to  rise  to  the  music 
of  bird  songs,  to  learn  to  know  and  love  every  tree 
and  flower  that  grows,  to  read  the  story  of  the  rocks, 
to  spend  your  holidays  exploring  mountain  recesses 
where  no  human  foot  has  ever  trod?  Do  you  un 
derstand  how  souls  reach  their  full  stature  away 
from  the  vices  and  striving  and  unrest  of  the  city?" 


BOY   AND   MAN  173 

To  the  boy  who  had  been  for  days  fleeing  like 
a  hunted  thing,  disgraced,  hungry,  weary,  and  foot 
sore,  the  young  man's  words  seemed  to  conjure  a 
forbidden  paradise,  over  whose  entrance  hung  the 
flaming  sword. 

"It 's  too  late.  If  I  could  only  have  been  started 
so!" 

"Make  a  fresh  start  now,  Eob,  and  on  the  right 
basis.  Take  a  good  rest  to-night,  and  to-morrow 
write  a  letter  to  old  Norcross,  telling  him  where 
you  are,  and  how  you  feel,  and  asking  him  to  give 
you  a  chance  to  repay  the  money.  He 's  not  a 
revengeful  fellow.  Like  most  rich  men,  you  '11  find 
he  '11  prefer  to  measure  retribution  in  dollars  and 
cents.  Ask  him  to  give  you  time." 

"And  you  think  he  'd  do  it? " 

"Try  it.  I  '11  help  you  to  devise  ways  and 
means." 

"But  — Amy?" 

"Don't  mind  the  harsh  words  she  said  to-night, 
Rob.  No  doubt  they  were  not  half  as  harsh  as  you 
deserved,  but  she  didn't  mean  them,  just  the  same. 
She  was  all  unstrung  with  grief  and  worry  and 
exhaustion.  She 's  been  doing  what  not  another 
woman  in  the  valley  would  do,  —  nursing  a  lot 
of  little  Spanish  children  through  the  smallpox  in 
an  old  adobe,  up  in  the  hills.  She  's  had  no  regu 
lar  sleep,  or  proper  food,  or  civilized  comforts  for 
weeks." 

"Poor  little  Amy!  "  said  her  brother. 

They  climbed  the  trail  to  the  paper  cottage,  where 
the  light  streamed  out  of  an  open  door,  in  which 


174  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

stood  Miss  Judith,  clad  in  her  prettiest  gown,  to 
welcome  the  prodigal  and  efface  the  memory  of  that 
sorry  earlier  home-coming. 

"Amy!"  cried  the  boy,  and  his  voice  was  a 
prayer  for  forgiveness. 

"Rob!  My  dear  brother!  I  have  so  wanted 
you  to  make  the  little  home  complete." 

In  the  bright  lamplight  Mr.  Paul  could  see  that 
the  boy  was  gaunt  and  ragged.  The  suit  he  wore, 
of  expensive  cloth  and  stylish  cut,  showed  earth 
stains,  and  had  evidently  been  slept  in;  but  his 
cleanly  appearance  testified  to  the  power  of  early 
breeding. 

In  the  house  a  little  table  was  decked  with  spot 
less  damask  and  dainty  dishes.  A  tea-kettle  was 
singing,  and  a  savory  odor  came  from  a  covered  pan 
on  the  stove.  Mr.  Paul  would  have  retired,  but 
both  sister  and  brother  were  plainly  so  anxious  to 
have  him  stay  that  he  remained.  Amy  placed  a 
chair  at  the  table,  and  urged  Rob  into  it. 

"I  know  you  '11  enjoy  a  good  home  meal,  late  as 
it  is,"  she  said.  "You  see  I  have  n't  forgotten  your 
likings,  Rob,"  uncovering  a  nicely  browned  egg 
omelette  of  generous  proportions.  "And  I  make 
my  own  bread  and  my  own  butter,"  pushing  each 
towards  him  in  turn.  "And  this  is  my  own  cow's 
milk.  It 's  so  different  from  the  city,  where  every 
thing  has  to  be  bought  from  other  people,  and  you 
never  really  know  what  you  are  getting." 

"They  taste  good,  I  can  tell  you,  Amy.  You 
always  were  a  glorious  cook,"  said  the  boy,  between 
mouthfuls,  for  he  was  ravenously  bolting  all  that 


BOY  AND  MAN  175 

was  set  before  him,  with  an  appetite  born  of  long 
tramping  and  fasting. 

"Your  sister  has  so  wide  a  range  of  accomplish 
ments  in  the  cooking  line  that  she  quite  overawes 
me  sometimes,"  said  Mr.  Paul.  "I  have  a  single 
really  artistic  achievement"  — 

"Flapjacks?"  suggested  the  girl. 

"Flapjacks!"  avowed  the  young  man  proudly. 
"I  'm  ready  to  meet  Miss  Amy  in  a  flapjack  contest 
any  day." 

"Mr.  Paul  is  a  better  sailor  than  he  is  a  cook 
—  or  farmer!"  explained  the  girl.  "His  especial 
talent  is  the  reefing  of  small  craft  in  a  gale." 

"Miss  Judith,  people  in  paper  houses"  — 

"  Rob,  I  leave  it  to  you  if  my  paper  cottage  mer 
its  so  many  jibes.  Is  n't  it  a  dear,  cosy,  comfort 
able  little  home?  " 

"Not  exactly  medieval  in  structure,  perhaps,  but 
an  abode  'that  nobody  could  capsize  with  a  mere 
breath!"  supplied  Mr.  Paul. 

This  little  badinage  relieved  the  strain  that  was 
on  them  all.  Rob  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
of  the  bright,  animated  faces  with  manifest  enjoy 
ment.  He  surveyed  the  interior  of  the  cottage  with 
new  interest.  So  unusual  a  structure  appealed  to 
the  boyish  love  of  novelty. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  it  is  made  of  paper, 
Amy!  All  this  oak  graining,  and  the  frescoed 
ceiling  and  paneled  walls?" 

"All  make-believe,  but  just  as  pleasant  and  ser 
viceable  as  wood  in  this  climate,  and  not  a  quarter 
its  price.  To  be  sure,  it  has  its  drawbacks  and  its 


176  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

disadvantages.  It 's  necessary  to  keep  the  furniture 
well  balanced,  and  you  have  to  be  rather  circum 
spect  in  your  movements.  I  tipped  over  my  broom 
the  other  day,  and  it  went  through  the  wall.  It 
teaches  one  careful  habits,  too.  You  don't  feel  like 
leaving  matches  around  promiscuously,  or  driving 
nails  at  random,  or  leaning  on  door-knobs.  But 
you  are  forgetting  your  tea,  Rob." 

She  poured  out  the  amber  liquid,  sweetening  it 
with  a  couple  of  lumps  of  sugar,  and  passed  him 
the  cream-jug.  With  the  cup  halfway  to  his  lips, 
he  stopped  and  scrutinized  the  ware. 

"Mother's  willow  cup.  Do  you  remember  it, 
Rob?  You  will  find  many  of  the  old  home -belong 
ings  up  here.  The  chair  in  which  you  are  sitting 
is  the  one  in  which  she  used  to  sit  and  hold  you 
when  you  were  a  little  fellow,  —  the  big  chair  that 
used  to  stand  in  the  corner  of  the  nursery,  Rob !  " 

The  boy  hastily  swallowed  the  tea  and  looked 
down  on  the  chair,  his  face  working.  He  had  been 
trying  to  get  away  from  the  old  recollections,  trying 
to  discard  the  home  ties,  but  they  were  very  dear, 
—  he  had  not  realized  how  dear  until  now  that  he 
found  himself  again  in  their  toils.  The  girl's  voice 
went  on,  tenderly,  cheerily :  — 

"Nothing  can  quite  take  the  place  of  the  old 
home  things,  Rob.  We  '11  hold  fast  to  them  as  long 
as  we  live,  won't  we,  dear?  You  don't  know  what 
a  help  it  is  going  to  be  to  me  to  have  you  here. 
I'm  afraid  I  'm  a  very  ambitious  farmer.  I  plan 
so  much  that  I  'm  not  able  to  carry  out.  But  now, 
with  our  two  pairs  of  hands  and  your  strength  — 


BOY  AND  MAN  177 

Why,  Rob,  what  a  man  you  have  grown  since  I 
saw  you  last! " 

How  he  sorrowed  to  think  that  his  moral  stature 
had  not  kept  pace  with  his  physical;  but  in  that 
moment  he  resolved  that  if  God  would  grant  him 
grace  to  accomplish  it,  he  would  yet  retrieve  the 
past,  and  become  a  man  in  whom  this  dear  sister 
could  honestly  take  pride. 

"  But  you,  Amy  ?  You  're  not  looking  as  strong 
as  I  hoped  to  see  you." 

"I  had  a  little  accident  that  confined  me  indoors 
for  a  while.  And  I  've  been  tired  and  troubled. 
But  it  will  be  all  right  now,  Rob.  Never  fear ! " 
she  said,  with  a  wan  little  smile. 

"And  that  old  trouble?  "  the  boy  asked  softly. 

"Just  the  same,  Rob.  It  will  never  be  any  dif 
ferent.  I  must  put  all  thought  of  that  aside." 

But  here  Mr.  Paul,  who  had  long  since  betaken 
himself  to  the  far  end  of  the  room,  and  who  had 
been  trying  to  interest  himself  in  a  book  while 
keenly  conscious  of  all  that  was  taking  place,  came 
forward  to  say  good-night. 

"It  is  late  now.  I  must  go  over  to  my  cabin. 
Rob  had  better  run  down  and  see  me  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  we  '11  discuss  plans  together." 

"How  far  away  from  here  do  you  live?"  asked 
the  boy  innocently. 

" Only  a  stone's  throw.    Merely  across  the  gulch." 

"Is  it  possible!  How  fortunate  you  are  in  hav 
ing  such  a  near  neighbor,  Amy." 

"Very  fortunate!"  attested  Miss  Amy,  but  she 
looked  at  Mr.  Paul  with  a  flash  of  satirical  fun. 


178  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"Your  letters  gave  me  the  impression  that  you 
lived  a  long  distance  from  anybody  else;  that  your 
land  extended  half  a  mile  on  either  side,  all  cut  up 
with  gulches  and  rough  country,  and  you  had  the 
wild  mountains  back  of  you." 

"I  shall  have  to  tell  you,  Kob,  that  my  letters 
were  correct." 

"Then,  where  does  Mr.  Paul's  land  come  in? 
Oh,  I  see.  He  's  living  on  your  land,  farming  it 
on  shares  or  under  contract." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Rob.  So  far  as  titles  go  — 
which  is  not  very  far  in  this  case  —  I  am  on  my 
own  land,"  insisted  Mr.  Paul. 

"Then  I  can't  see,  —  oh,  are  you  both  close  to  the 
edges  of  your  tracts,  near  section  lines?"  pursued 
Rob,  with  a  boy's  inquisitiveness. 

"I  like  your  tenacity,  Eob,"  replied  Mr.  Paul. 
"It 's  a  good  trait,  and  should  be  rewarded.  I  see 
I  shall  have  to  explain  this  matter.  To  begin  with, 
your  sister  and  I  are  both  on  unsurveyed  govern 
ment  land." 

"Oh,  I  see"  — 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  fear  you  have  just  reached 
the  point  where  you  will  begin  not  to  see." 

"And  every  actual  settler  on  government  land, 
before  a  survey  is  made,  is  entitled  to  enter  three 
hundred  and  twenty  acres  when  the  survey  is  filled," 
put  in  his  sister. 

"Now  we  are  coming  to  the  facts,  Rob.  It 's  a 
blessing  to  be  exact,"  bowing  before  the  girl,  who 
resented  this  attention  with  a  little  shrug. 

"Nearly  four  years  ago,  Rob,  I  camped  on  this 


BOY  AND   MAN  179 

land,  and  I  decided  then  that  if  the  world  or  for 
tune  should  ever  go  back  on  me,  I  'd  come  up  here 
and  spend  my  declining  days." 

"Oh!     '  Declining  days  ' !  "  exclaimed  Amy. 

"The  day  came  when  the  world  went  back  on 
me,"  continued  Mr.  Paul,  disdaining  to  notice  this 
interruption.  "I  packed  my  gripsack  "  — 

"With  a  black  curtain!  "  put  in  Miss  Judith. 

Mr.  Paul  gave  her  a  reproachful  look.  What* 
ever  the  mystery  of  the  black  curtain,  he  permitted 
no  light  reference  to  it. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  girl,  under  her 
breath. 

He  acknowledged  the  gentle  apology  with  a  look 
so  sad  and  wistful  that  her  heart  ached  over  her 
hasty  speech.  But  he  went  on,  resuming  his  tone 
of  playful  seriousness :  — 

"So  I  came  up  here,  intending  to  turn  farmer 
and  live  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow.  I  had  great 
plans  and  roseate  expectations.  Of  course  I  meant 
to  begin  in  a  very  modest  way  "  — 

"Planting  cabbages  and  onions!"  suggested  the 
girl  mischievously. 

"For  the  sustenance  of  my  neighbor's  cows," 
supplied  Mr.  Paul  quickly,  at  which  the  girl  mo 
mentarily  subsided.  "No  one  ever  builds  such  mag 
nificent  air-castles  as  the  poor  California  farmer, 
Rob.  You  '11  find  out,  when  you  get  to  work  your 
self.  And  no  one  ever  has  his  air  castles  topple 
down  so  persistently.  I  intended  to  keep  my  canon 
as  nearly  as  possible  in  its  wild  state,  —  a  charming 
little  natural  park.  The  hills  I  meant  to  plant  with 


180  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

olives,  and  along  the  benches,  ranging  downward 
towards  the  sea,  I  designed  setting  out  all  manner 
of  fruits  of  every  clime,  according  to  the  altitudes. 
I  planned  to  widen  the  brook  at  one  point  into  an 
artificial  lake,  stocking  it  with  trout.  The  hills 
back  of  me  formed  a  great  natural  preserve  for 
game.  I  had  never  seen  a  more  secluded,  peaceful 
spot  than  this  was  when  I  first  beheld  it." 

"And  before  I  came,"  murmured  Miss  Judith. 

"All  these  delights  and  privileges,  and  the  quiet 
and  seclusion,  I  intended  to  keep  to  myself  for  a 
while,  until  I  got  over  grieving  for  the  loss  of  my 
purse." 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  lost  any  purse,"  put  in 
the  boy,  aggrieved  by  the  omission. 

"Oh,  didn't  I  mention  it?  Well,  I  had,"  said 
the  young  man  placidly.  "When  the  time  came 
that  I  could  forget,  I  meant  to  hunt  up  other  fel 
lows,  friends  of  mine,  who  are  all  the  while  using 
up  or  throwing  away  their  purses,  —  their  fairy 
purses,  Rob !  —  and  ask  them  up  here  for  a  while,  — 
make  it  a  sort  of  hospital  for  disappointed  ambi 
tions,  decayed  hopes,  wasted  efforts,  — do  you  see?  " 

"I  see,"  said  the  boy  seriously. 

Miss  Judith  was  listening  very  gravely  now. 

"I  knew  Uncle  Sam  had  this  tract  ready  to  give 
away  for  the  asking,  if  one  would  comply  with  cer 
tain  conditions.  I  came  up  here  ready  to  faithfully 
keep  my  part  of  the  contract  with  the  paternal  gov 
ernment.  I  brought  lumber  and  nails  and  tools, 
prepared  to  turn  carpenter,  joiner,  woodsman,  and 
mason.  One  morning  I  went  about  building  my 


BOY  AND  MAN  181 

house,  a  good,  solid,  substantial  dwelling,  as  you  '11 
admit  when  you  see  it,  Kob.  And  while  I  was 
blistering  my  hands  and  breaking  my  back  over  it, 
your  sister  had  this  cottage  put  in  a  wheelbarrow, 
and  a  man  trundled  it  up  here  and  set  it  in  place, 
and  she  claimed  priority  of  settlement  on  the  strength 
of  it." 

"A  wheelbarrow!  A  great  four -horse  team!" 
contended  Miss  Judith. 

"Never  mind!  I  won't  stand  on  trifles!"  an 
nounced  Mr.  Paul,  with  a  grand  wave  of  his  hand. 
"But  there  's  the  situation.  Priority  of  settlement! 
Of  course  the  land  isn't  surveyed  yet,  and  may  not 
be  till  we  're  gray-headed.  Meantime  we  have  a 
magnificent,  legitimate,  desperate  land-feud." 

"And  I  spoiled  all  your  Utopian  plans  by  coming 
up  here,"  said  Miss  Judith;  and  no  one  could  have 
told  whe.ther  she  spoke  in  genuine  compunction  or 
in  irony. 

"Yes,  you  spoiled  them,  completely  and  utterly," 
said  Mr.  Paul.  "My  air-castle  is  in  ruins.  You 
spoiled  them,  for  the  simple  reason  that  no  man 
can  properly  nurse  disappointed  ambitions,  decayed 
hopes,  or  mourn  over  wasted  efforts,  with  a  woman 
around.  And  this  is  the  reason:  she  will  stimu 
late  him  to  new  efforts  and  new  ambitions,  and  put 
new  hope  into  him." 

A  thoughtful  silence  fell  upon  the  three.  The 
young  man  broke  it  in  a  very  prosaic  way. 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Judith,"  he  said,  "but  have 
you  the  necessary  bedding  to  make  this  young  man 
comfortable  for  the  night?" 


182  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"There  is  a  comfortable  couch,"  she  said,  point 
ing  to  the  window  seat  with  its  soft  upholstery. 
"As  for  coverings,  — oh,  I  can  contrive." 

"There  isn't  the  slightest  need  of  contriving, 
when  I  have  more  blankets  than  I  can  use,  and  it 's 
a  perpetual  conflict  to  keep  the  moths  out  of  them. 
Come  down  to  my  cabin,  Rob,  and  we  '11  see  what 
we  can  find.  Good-night,  Miss  Amy !  " 

They  descended  the  tree  warily,  and  stopped  for 
a  moment  under  the  oaks.  With  the  setting  of  the 
moon  the  night  had  grown  very  dark.  Coming  out 
of  the  bright  lamplight,  they  had  to  wait  a  moment 
to  accustom  their  eyes  to  the  darkness. 

Mr.  PauPs  ear,  trained  to  all  mountain  sounds, 
caught  the  sharp  clink  of  a  horseshoe  against  a  rock 
in  the  distance.  He  waited,  listening. 

"There  is  a  body  of  horsemen  coming  up  the  trail 
from  the  valley,"  he  said. 

The  boy  trembled.  Weeks  of  flight  from  arrest 
and  constant  fear  of  apprehension  had  shaken  his 
young  nerves  instead  of  hardening  them. 

"The  officers!  "  he  whispered. 

"Wait  a  little,  Rob,  and  hark." 

And  now  they  could  hear  the  sound  of  men's 
voices  coming  up  the  hillside,  and  again  these  had 
paused,  debating  together,  at  a  point  below. 

"I  think  this  road  will  take  us  there,"  said  one. 

"I  don't  trust  roads  that  I  don't  know,"  said  an 
other.  "Better  keep  to  the  trail.  It 's  more  direct, 
and  I  know  will  carry  us  there." 

"Perhaps  I  'd  better  give  myself  up,  Mr.  Paul." 

"By  no  means.  It  maybe  only  a  party  of  hunters 


*    BOY  AND  MAN  183 

going  over  the  range,"  said  Mr.  Paul.  "But  it's 
as  well  to  keep  on  the  safe  side.  Be  off  to  my 
house.  Follow  the  trail,  and  you  '11  go  straight  to 
the  cabin.  If  you  hear  me  whistle,  take  to  the 
chaparral  above.  We  must  protect  you  from  arrest 
until  you  have  a  chance  to  communicate  with  Nor- 
cross,"  he  explained.  "I  think  I'll  let  Hercules 
loose  to  serve  as  a  sort  of  outpost.  You  needn't 
be  afraid  of  his  attacking  you.  He  's  seen  you  with 
me." 

The  great  dog  was  loosed,  and  with  a  bound  and 
a  furious  bay,  tore  off  down  the  hill  toward  the  val 
ley,  while  the  boy  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

AN  OLD   FRIEND 

AN  excited  chorus  from  the  horsemen  proved  that 
the  big  dog  was  successfully  holding  them  in  check. 

"Don't  run,  Sedgwick!  It's  always  safer  to 
face  an  animal  like  that.  Nice  fellow!  Good, 
goo-od  doggie!  Come  here!  There  's  a  clever  fel 
low.  Get  out,  you  ugly  brute !  Is  there  room  on 
that  branch  for  me,  Sedgwick?" 

"Don't  take  the  gun,  Blake.  Give  him  one  over 
the  head  with  the  tripod." 

This  latter  speech  relieved  Mr.  Paul's  fears. 
Posses  of  officers,  trailing  their  prey  through  moun 
tain  wilds,  do  not  usually  include  tripods  in  their 
armament. 

"Halloa  there!" 

"Coming,  gentlemen." 

Mr.  Paul  hurried  down  the  hillside. 

"Dick  Fowler,  upon  my  word!  " 

"Bless  my  soul,  Paul!  How  do  you  happen  to 
be  up  here?  Been  establishing  that  retreat  or  her 
mitage  you  used  to  talk  of  ?  " 

"I  have  a  little  shanty  up  the  gulch,"  returned 
the  young  man  modestly.  "But  how  do  you  hap 
pen  up  here  at  this  time  of  year?  Going  to  make 
the  survey  of  this  township  ?  " 

"Not  yet.     We  're  on  our  way  over  the  range, 


AN   OLD   FRIEND  185 

where  some  wrangling  Englishmen  have  put  up  for 
a  survey  of  land  not  worth  two  bits  a  square  league. 
Is  that  your  dog?  " 

"I'm  acquainted  with  him,"  replied  Mr.  Paul 
discreetly. 

"  Thank  Heaven !  I  'm  delighted  to  meet  with 
even  a  distant  acquaintance  of  the  monster's.  Is 
your  acquaintance  of  sufficient  standing  to  justify 
you  in  calling  him  off?  You  see  he  's  got  my  tran- 
sitman  up  a  tree,  and  has  scattered  the  rest  of  my 
force  throughout  the  brush.  I  've  exhausted  all  my 
blarney  on  him,  and,  failing  in  fair  measures,  was 
about  to  try  foul,  when  you  opportunely  —  for  the 
dog  —  arrived." 

"Here,  Hercules!"  shouted  Mr.  Paul,  following 
the  command  with  a  whistle. 

The  great  dog  instantly  obeyed  the  call,  leaping 
and  frolicking  about  him  like  a  puppy. 

"The  ravening  beast  is  subdued,"  announced 
Fowler  oracularly.  "Now,  gentlemen,  I  think  you 
may  advance  without  further  risk  to  life  or  limb. 
Zaccheus,  come  down  out  of  your  tree !  " 

The  man  with  the  tripod,  a  stout,  clumsy  fellow, 
descended  from  his  high  perch  amid  the  shouts  of 
his  comrades. 

"Oh,  you  may  laugh  if  you  like,  boys,"  he  said, 
"but  I  tell  you  it  was  a  matter  of  life  or  death. 
The  beast  all  but  had  me  by  the  leg.  As  it  was, 
he  got  a  good  piece  of  my  garments." 

"I  was  never  more  serious  in  my  life,  Sedgwick," 
avowed  his  chief.  "In  truth,  it  was  a  valiant  re 
treat.  For  all  that,  I  'm  convinced,  from  the  way 


186  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

you  lit  up  that  tree,  that  you  're  planning  to  desert 
the  profession  for  the  circus  ring.  What  '11  you 
take  to  repeat  the  performance,  Sedgwick?  " 

"All  I  can  say  is  that  I  've  got  to  lay  up  for  re 
pairs  before  I  cross  the  range.  I  'd  have  provided 
.myself  with  a  suit  of  armor,  if  I'd  known  such 
bloody  attacks  as  this  were  to  be  expected,"  grum 
bled  Sedgwick;  and  now  they  could  see  by  the 
starlight  that  he  was  holding  one  hand  behind 
him,  a  performance  rendered  necessary  to  conceal 
sundry  ravages  in  his  apparel  made  by  Hercules' 
teeth.  This  discovery  was  greeted  with  another 
roar  of  laughter. 

"The  most  opportune  meeting  in  the  world!" 
exclaimed  Fowler,  clapping  Mr.  Paul  on  the  shoul 
der.  "  First  you  save  us  from  annihilation  at  the 
fangs  of  this  ferocious  monster,  then  you  present 
yourself  in  the  guise  of  an  angel  of  mercy,  to  heal 
the  devastation  he  has  wrought;  for,  being  a  bache 
lor,  you  of  course  have  a  needle  and  a  waxed  end 
always  at  hand,  and  will  place  them  at  poor  Sedg 
wick 's  disposal." 

"  Gentlemen,  my  poor  cabin  and  all  its  contents 
are  at  your  command.  If  any  of  you  want  a  little 
arnica  or  court-plaster,  or  a  piece  of  boiler-plate, 
you  're  welcome  to  all  you  can  find." 

"That's  hospitality  of  a  royal  sort!"  cried  the 
merry  Fowler.  Then,  more  seriously,  he  remarked : 
"  I  wonder  you  find  it  necessary  to  keep  such  a  for 
midable  guardian  up  in  this  Arcadian  region." 

"I  think  I  told  you  he  was  only  a  passing  ac 
quaintance  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Paul  impatiently. 


AN   OLD  FRIEND  187 

"The  truth  is,  I  have  a  neighbor^  and  my  neighbor 
has  —  the  dog." 

They  had  reached  the  head  of  the  bridle-path, 
and  the  paper  cottage  could  be  dimly  seen  in  the 
starlight,  nestling  like  a  dovecote  in  the  oak's  shel 
tering  arms. 

"By  George!  What's  that  light  in  the  tree? 
Ghosts?"  queried  one. 

"It's  only  a  cottage.  A  paper  cottage,"  quoth 
Mr.  Paul. 

"How  in  creation  did  it  come  up  there?" 

"Oh,  it  was  originally  set  on  the  ground.  Mov 
ing  up  there  was  an  afterthought,"  was  the  consid 
erate  and  discreet  reply. 

The  men  stood  still  and  marveled. 

"Is  it  your  house?"  asked  Fowler. 

"No,  my  neighbor's,"  explained  Mr.  Paul. 
"Mine  is  further  on." 

The  curtains  of  the  cottage  were  drawn,  but  a 
light  could  be  observed,  dimly  burning  within.  Mr. 
Paul  spoke  aloud,  and  cheerily,  that  the  anxieties 
of  the  lonely  watcher  might  be  relieved.  "  Of  course 
you  '11  put  up  with  me  to-night." 

"If  it  won't  be  an  imposition  "  — 

"  And  you  can  survive  my  hard  floors  and  humble 
fare!  No  pate  defoie  gras  up  here,  Dick." 

"As  we  expect  to  live  on  bacon  and  beans  for 
the  next  six  weeks,  we  ought  to  be  able  to  get  along 
without  any  flummeries  for  breakfast.  Are  you 
really  established  up  here,  Paul  ?  Actually  turned 
ranchman  and  following  the  plough?  " 

"I  'm  afraid  the  plough  doesn't  enjoy  much  fol- 


188  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

lowing,  but  I  've  been  up  here  two  years,  and  mean 
to  stay,  Dick." 

The  cabin,  dark  and  silent,  seemed  to  rise  out  of 
the  ground  as  they  approached  under  cover  of  the 
tall  trees.  Only  the  host  perceived  the  dark  figure 
that  moved  towards  the  rear  as  they  climbed  the 
steps.  He  struck  a  light,  and  excusing  himself, 
went  into  a  back  room  and  thence  to  a  rear  door, 
where  he  passed  out  a  roll  of  blankets  to  the  lad 
waiting  there,  saying  quietly :  — 

"It 's  all  right,  Rob.  Nothing  but  a  party  of 
surveyors  passing  over  the  hills,  an  old  friend  of 
mine  in  charge  of  the  outfit.  They  '11  be  off  at  day 
break  to-morrow.  Good-night,  my  boy.  Hurry 
back  to  your  sister." 

While  the  other  men  wrapped  themselves  in  their 
blankets  and  bestowed  themselves  in  divers  nooks 
for  a  good  rest,  the  two  friends  sat  up  far  into  the 
night. 

In  the  course  of  their  conversation,  Fowler  drew 
out  a  shabby -looking  leather-bound  book,  and  after 
consulting  some  dim  notes,  turned  to  Mr.  Paul  as 
one  who  asks  the  solution  of  a  problem. 

"I  thought  my  memory  couldn't  have  failed  me, 
Paul,  and  my  old  field-notes  confirm  my  recollec 
tion.  Unless  I  've  gone  astray  on  all  landmarks  in 
the  darkness,  this  should  be  just  about  the  geo 
graphical  centre  of  the  half -section  you  selected  for 
settlement  when  we  were  up  here  together." 

"I  think  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Paul. 

"And  your  lines  are  about  half  a  mile  to  the 
east  and  west." 


AN   OLD   FRIEND  189 

"As  nearly  as  I  can  calculate,"  returned  the 
young  man,  "my  cabin  is  pretty  close  to  the  mid 
dle." 

"Then  how  in  the  name  of  common  sense  does 
that  house  come  here,  less  than  twenty  rods  away, 
in  that  tree  on  the  mesa  above? " 

"My  neighbor  put  it  there,"  replied  the  young 
man  meekly. 

"With  your  consent?" 

"Nobody  did  me  the  honor  of  asking  '  my  con 
sent.'" 

"Hang  it!  You  don't  mean  to  say  some  one  got 
ahead  of  you  in  the  matter  of  settlement?  That 
would  break  down  your  entry,  —  make  you  liable  to 
trespass." 

"As  nearly  as  I  can  make  out,"  explained  Mr. 
Paul,  "our  acts  of  settlement  were  simultaneous." 

"That  makes  a  deuce  of  a  case.  Could  n't  you 
bluff  him?" 

"My  neighbor  is  not  to  be  bluffed." 

"And  in  possession,  too,  which  makes  nine  tenths 
of  any  case.  Of  course  you  both  have  the  same 
advantage,  so  far  as  that  goes;  but  when  it  comes 
to  a  contest,  two  men,  each  with  the  proverbial  nine- 
tenths'  hold  on  the  title  to  oppose  to  each  other, 
make  up  the  ugliest  kind  of  a  situation." 

"I  judge  so,"  said  Mr.  Paul. 

Fowler  ruminated  for  a  while.  At  length  his 
face  brightened. 

"Do  you  remember  that  corral  we  built  here 
abouts,  of  brush  and  logs,  to  confine  our  animals 
when  we  camped  up  here  three  or  four  years  ago?  " 


190  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"I  remember  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Paul. 

"Is  that  corral  still  in  existence?  " 

"It  is.  With  a  little  mending  I  make  it  serve 
the  same  purpose  to-day." 

"Then  you've  got  'em!"  shouted  Fowler  joy 
fully. 

"How's  that?" 

"That  corral  constituted  an  act  of  settlement. 
All  you  've  got  to  do  is  to  go  before  the  Register 
and  swear  to  the  building  of  that  corral  four  years 
ago,  and  you  '11  knock  their  claim  higher  'n  a  kite." 

"You  feel  sure  of  this?"  asked  Mr.  Paul  doubt 
fully. 

"Sure?  Why,  man,  it's  the  whole  thing  in  a 
nutshell.  It 's  absolutely  conclusive.  In  such  cases 
everything  turns  on  '  priority  of  settlement. '  And 
you  've  got  me  for  a  witness." 

"I  don't  doubt  that  your  word  would  carry  great 
weight,  Fowler,"  said  Mr.  Paul  weakly.  "I'm 
sure  I  'm  much  obliged.  But  I  would  n't  like  to 
tax  you  "  — 

"Tax  be  hanged!"  returned  Fowler  more  heart- 
tily  than  elegantly,  for  he  had  grown  enthusiastic  in 
the  espousal  of  his  friend's  cause.  "I  '11  do  more. 
There 's  no  use  in  your  being  bothered  with  this 
confounded  interloper  any  longer.  Before  we  start 
up  the  mountains  to-morrow,  I  '11  go  over  and  see 
him  myself.  I  '11  climb  his  tree  and  beard  him  in 
his  paper  house,  and  I  '11  explain  to  him  his  exact 
legal  status.  I  've  got  the  United  States  Land 
Laws  at  my  tongue's  end.  I  '11  quote  him  every 
section  and  every  amendment  to  every  section,  if 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  li)l 

he  wants  to  hear  'em.  I  '11  show  him  that  he  's  no 
thing  more  nor  less  than  a  squatter.  I  '11  tell  him 
he  's  rendering  himself  liable  to  damages  for  tres 
pass  every  hour  he  remains  here,  —  that  you  can 
bring  claims  against  him  for  rent  and  pasture  and 
the  deuce  knows  what  not.  Oh,  you  leave  him  to 
me.  I  '11  scare  him  out  of  his  boots !  " 

"Fowler  —  really  —  you  '11  do  me  a  favor  if  you 
won't  go  near  —  this  neighbor  of  mine.  I  'd  rather 
go  about  the  thing  peacefully,  don't  you  know? 
The  survey  's  not  made  yet.  There  's  no  occasion 
for  stirring  up  trouble." 

The  embarrassed  manner  in  which  Mr.  Paul 
uttered  these  protests,  his  craven  attitude  upon  the 
subject  of  his  rights,  perplexed  his  friend. 

"Old  fellow,  this  is  n't  like  you.  I  never  thought, 
Paul,  you  would  stand  tamely  by  and  submit  to 
such  imposition.  Indeed,  I  used  to  think  you  some 
thing  of  a  fire-eater.  What  sort  of  a  desperado  is 
it  that  has  quartered  himself  upon  you  ?  I  'm  curi 
ous  to  see  the  fellow.  I  think  I  '11  pay  him  a  visit 
to-morrow  morning,  in  spite  of  your  objections." 

"It  isn't  a  desperado.  It  is  a  woman!"  said 
Mr.  Paul. 

It  was  the  surveyor's  turn  to  exhibit  a  craven 
spirit. 

"A  woman!  A  woman  and  a  land  claim  I  I'll 
be  hanged  if  I  go  to  see  her !  " 

Fowler  paced  the  room  in  excitement,  upsetting 
the  little  Japanese  god  in  the  course  of  his  peregri 
nations. 

"  A  woman,  eh  ?     Then  you  're  in  for  it,  old  f el- 


192  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

low.  A  woman  and  a  homestead  claim!  Heaven 
preserve  us !  I  '11  keep  as  far  out  of  the  case  as  / 
can.  Don't  you  be  summoning  me  as  a  witness, 
mind  you !  The  bravest  officer  in  the  special  ser 
vice  of  the  General  Land  Office,  and  the  most  effi 
cient,  once  told  me  that  he  'd  rather  face  an  armed 
troop  of  cowboys  trying  to  hold  down  a  range,  than 
one  woman  with  a  homestead  claim  to  contest.  Do 
you  know  what  I  'd  advise  you  to  do  in  this  case, 
old  boy?  Light  out,  while  your  scalp's  whole. 
The  longer  you  stay,  the  dearer  you  '11  rue  it." 

Before  the  two  men  parted  the  following  morning, 
they  stood  alone  together  in  Mr.  Paul's  great  living- 
room. 

The  black  curtain,  seen  by  daylight  and  in  sharp 
contrast  to  the  bright  sunlight  without,  which  laid 
a  flickering  bar  across  the  floor,  looked  grimmer 
than  by  lamplight.  There  was  something  so  de 
pressing  in  its  sinister  folds  that  Fowler  shuddered 
as  he  looked  upon  it. 

"Paul,"  he  said,  speaking  earnestly  and  laying 
his  arm  affectionately  on  the  other's  shoulder,  "I 
think  I  understand.  But  why  do  you  keep  the  dis 
mal  thing  hanging  there,  forever  before  your  vision  ? 
If  you  have  given  up  everything,  burn  your  bridges 
behind  you.  Separate  yourself  from  every  reminder 
of  the  past." 

"You  can't  understand,  Fowler.  No  one  but  my 
self  can  comprehend,"  returned  his  host.  "I  've  no 
idea  of  mounting  a  death's-head  at  my  feast,  a  sym 
bol  of  mortality  to  damp  all  earthly  joys.  I  'm  not 
of  a  morbid  temperament,  Fowler,  but  this  thing  has 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  193 

struck  deep  into  my  life.  I  keep  the  black  curtain 
here,  and  what  is  behind  it,  as  the  pagans  of  old 
used  to  carry  about  with  them  the  ashes  of  their 
loved  and  lost." 

"As  well  build  a  house  upon  a  grave!  "  muttered 
the  surveyor,  but  his  words  did  not  reach  Mr. 
Paul,  who,  dismissing  the  subject  abruptly,  as  he 
invariably  repulsed  any  reference  to  the  black  cur 
tain,  had  stepped  to  the  window  and  was  consulting 
the  sky. 

"  We  shall  have  rain,  Fowler,  —  rain  before  night. 
Do  you  see  that  gray  fringe  drifting  along  the  sierra, 
from  where  it  dips  down  into  the  sea?  Rain  always 
comes  when  that  ragged  fringe  trails  along  the 
mountains." 

"Then  we  must  be  stirring.  I  want  to  make 
camp  ten  miles  up  the  Las  Cruces  Canon  before 
night,"  cried  Fowler,  rolling  up  his  blankets  and 
proceeding  to  arrange  his  pack. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

AN   APPEAL   FOR   CLEMENCY 

"Now,  Kob,"  said  Mr.  Paul,  a  little  later  that 
same  forenoon,  "under  what  circumstances  did  you 
leave  the  employ  of  Norcross?" 

"After  I  took  the  bonds, — they  were  United 
States  four  per  cents. ,  Mr.  Paul,  —  I  was  in  misery 
every  hour,  knowing  their  loss  would  be  discovered, 
sooner  or  later.  I  couldn't  bear  to  look  Captain 
Norcross  or  any  of  the  men  in  the  face.  So  I  threw 
up  my  place :  told  him  I  could  n't  stand  the  indoor 
work,  and  had  a  chance  to  take  a  place  on  a  coffee 
plantation  down  in  Guatemala.  That  was  the  place 
I  was  aiming  for  when  I  came  here,  you  know." 

"And  how  did  you  learn  that  the  theft  had  been 
discovered  and  fixed  on  you?" 

"Why,  it  stands  to  reason  the  bonds  would  be 
missed,  and  I  knew  it  would  be  a  clear  case  against 
me  from  the  first,"  answered  the  boy,  wide-eyed. 
"  All  the  others  were  trusted  old  employees,  —  had 
been  with  Norcross  for  years.  As  for  knowing  the 
officers  were  following  me,  —  I  tell  you  I  have  n't 
taken  a  step  since  I  left  San  Francisco  that  I  have  n't 
been  conscious  men  were  dogging  me.  At  every 
town  and  station  I  've  stopped,  there  ?s  been  a  man 
on  the  lookout.  I  've  been  quizzed  and  followed, 
and  hunted  right  and  left.  Sometimes  I  think  Nor- 


AN  APPEAL  FOR  CLEMENCY  195 

cross  has  followed  me  all  the  way,  playing  with  me 
as  a  cat  with  a  mouse,  ready  to  clap  his  hand  on 
me  the  moment  I  start  to  leave  the  country." 

"If  this  is  so,  don't  you  think  it 's  a  little  strange 
that  there  hasn't  been  a  single  word  in  the  daily 
papers  about  either  the  loss  of  the  bonds  or  your 
flight?  " 

"  If  there  has  n't !  But  are  you  sure  ?  I  have  n't 
seen  anything  but  a  stray  paper  now  and  then," 
said  Rob  thoughtfully. 

"Your  sister  tells  me  that  she  has  kept  a  careful 
watch  on  the  papers  ever  since  the  letter  you  sent 
her,  —  you  know  when !  —  and  she  's  sure  there 
has  n't  been  a  line  on  the  subject.  How  do  you 
account  for  that?  " 

"I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure.  It  isn't  like  Norcross 
to  spare  a  fellow's  feelings  or  name  when  he  has 
a  clear  case  against  him." 

"But  suppose  this  isn't  a  clear  case.  Suppose 
that  all  the  detectives  you  have  met  and  the  men 
on  the  lookout  for  you  have  been  mere  phantoms 
of  your  own  uneasy  conscience.  You  yourself  say 
there  were  others  who  knew  the  combination  of  the 
safe,  others  who  had  access  to  it.  How  do  you  know 
but  that  the  loss  was  not  discovered  until  it  seemed 
plain  that  the  bonds  must  have  been  taken  at  a  date 
subsequent  to  your  employment  in  the  company's 
service?" 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Rob. 

"It  appears  to  me  quite  within  the  range  of  possi 
bility  that  you  may  not  have  been  so  much  as  sus 
pected,"  remarked  Mr.  Paul.  "The  evidence  may 


196  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

seem  to  point  clearly  to  some  other  man's  crime. 
They  may  never  gather  sufficient  evidence  to  convict 
him,  or  even  to  arrest  him  upon.  He  may  merely 
rest  under  suspicion  all  the  rest  of  his  life.  Under 
the  circumstances,  why  should  you  incriminate  your 
self  by  writing  to  Norcross?" 

The  boy  had  been  listening  attentively.  At  this 
suggestion  he  raised  his  head  and  his  eyes  blazed. 

"Let  an  innocent  man  suffer  for  my  fault?  I  'd 
rather  go  to  prison  all  the  rest  of  my  life ! "  he 
cried. 

"You're  the  right  stuff,  Kob,"  said  Mr.  Paul 
quietly. 

He  brought  paper  and  pen  and  ink,  and  set  them 
before  the  boy. 

"  Tell  him  in  your  own  language  and  in  your  own 
way,"  he  advised.  "Don't  mince  matters,  or  try 
to  excuse  yourself." 

There  is  not  space  here  to  set  down  the  labored 
epistle  in  which  Robert  Judith  made  confession  to 
his  old  employer  of  the  dastardly  wrong  he  had  done 
him,  and  humbly  asked  for  time  in  which  to  restore 
what  he  had  taken.  To  own  one's  error  under  the 
pressure  of  a  verbal  inquiry,  be  it  kind  or  harsh,  is 
a  wholly  different  matter  from  deliberately  volun 
teering,  in  black  and  white,  the  story  of  a  man's 
undoing.  Beads  of  sweat  stood  on  the  lad's  fore 
head  when  he  had  finished,  and  the  hand  which  held 
out  the  sheets  to  Mr.  Paul  trembled  as  if  the  muscles 
had  been  put  to  some  hard  strain. 

"  A  good,  straightforward  statement ! "  was  the 
young  man's  only  comment,  but  the  look  of  friendly 


AN   APPEAL  FOR  CLEMENCY  197 

confidence  that  accompanied  it  warmed  the  heart  of 
the  youth,  who  but  the  day  before  had  felt  himself 
an  outcast  from  his  kind. 

Days  must  necessarily  elapse  before  an  answer 
could  be  expected.  This  period  of  waiting  was  one 
of  almost  intolerable  suspense  to  the  lad,  and  only 
a  degree  less  trying  to  his  sister  and  Mr.  Paul. 
Would  Captain  Norcross  appreciate  the  boy's  frank 
confession  and  the  manner  in  which  he  had  cast 
himself  upon  his  mercy,  and  show  him  compassion, 
allowing  him  a  reasonable  time  in  which  to  make 
up  the  sum  he  had  taken ;  or  would  he,  enraged  and 
vindictive,  at  once  place  the  young  fellow  under 
arrest,  and  see  that  he  had  meted  out  to  him  the  full 
penalty  of  the  law,  making  of  him  an  example  to 
evil-doers,  a  warning  and  a  menace  to  his  remain 
ing  employees? 

The  mail  route  that  connected  the  Vernal  Hills 
with  the  city  was  devious  and  roundabout.  They 
reckoned  that  fully  a  week  might  pass  before  the 
answer  from  Norcross  could  reach  them,  for  that  a 
prompt  response  would  certainly  be  sent  to  a  com 
munication  of  such  a  character  they  could  not  doubt. 
When  a  week  and  two  days  had  elapsed,  and  still 
there  was  no  word  from  the  stern  old  captain,  the 
delay  seemed  inexplicable. 

In  these  days  Rob  wandered  about  like  an  uneasy 
spirit,  unable  to  settle  down  to  any  fixed  plan  or 
routine  of  work,  feeling  each  hour  pregnant  with 
grim  possibilities.  His  sister  and  Mr.  Paul  did 
what  they  could  to  interest  him  and  to  divert  his 
mind,  but  upon  all  rested  the  shadow  of  foreboding. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

A  MOUNTAIN   OF   GOLD 

"ROB,  I  want  to  send  a  messenger  over  the  sierra 
to  Fowler.  Some  dispatches  have  come  for  him, 
and  I  must  get  them  to  him  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment.  How  would  you  like  to  undertake  the 
trip?" 

Rob  hailed  this  diversion  with  relief. 

"If  you  think  I  can  find  my  way!"  he  said 
modestly. 

"You  couldn't  lose  it,  or  get  far  off  the  trail,  if 
you  tried.  Now  and  then  you  '11  find  a  path  branch 
ing  off  to  some  claim  or  ranch,  but  they  are  little 
traveled,  and  if  you  chance  to  go  astray,  a  few 
minutes  will  set  you  right.  If  you  start  at  daylight 
to-morrow,  my  sorrel  will  easily  carry  you  to  old 
Ortega's  place  before  nightfall,  and  a  couple  of 
hours'  travel  the  next  morning  will  take  you  up  the 
Las  Cruces  Canon,  where  Fowler  is  encamped." 

Moody  and  depressed,  Rob  started  out  on  his 
journey,  but  before  he  had  reached  the  summit  of 
the  range,  the  elasticity  of  boyhood  had  asserted 
itself,  and  he  was  in  buoyant  spirits.  It  was  im 
possible  not  to  feel  the  exhilaration  of  the  hills. 
The  great  solitudes,  the  sweet  silences,  the  com 
manding  heights,  lifted  his  soul  into  a  new  altitude. 
What  were  temptations  and  weaknesses,  that  they 


A  MOUNTAIN  OF  GOLD  199 

could  not  be  resisted?  What  were  trials  and  hu 
miliations,  that  they  could  not  be  patiently  borne  ? 
What  was  calamity,  that  it  could  not  be  bravely 
met? 

In  the  smiling  valley  nestling  beside  the  shining 
sea,  in  the  busy  towns  which  scattered  like  the 
crested  waves  of  some  great  storm-tossed  ocean  be 
yond,  were  infinite  possibilities  of  usefulness,  of 
honorable  conquest,  of  achievement. 

Had  some  wise  philosopher  studied  how  best  to 
heal  a  human  soul  sore  wounded  and  defeated  in 
the  world's  harsh  conflict,  he  could  not  have  pre 
scribed  a  better  tonic  than  this  lonely  ride  amid 
the  wilds  of  the  Coast  Range.  Self-communion  is 
a  discipline  which  weak  natures  successfully  avoid 
when  surrounded  by  the  thousand  and  one  distrac 
tions  of  city  life,  yet  it  is  the  corner-stone  of  char 
acter-building,  and  no  great  nature,  sound,  massive 
and  well  poised,  was  ever  reared  without  it. 

The  meals  he  prepared  for  himself  on  the  way 
may  have  been  ill  cooked  and  more  poorly  served, 
but  it  seemed  to  Rob  that  nothing  he  had  ever 
eaten  in  a  city  restaurant  could  compare  in  flavor 
with  the  crisp,  half -burned  slices  of  bacon  and  cup 
of  hot  coffee  made  ready  over  a  bunch  of  dry  twigs 
beside  the  trail.  No  sleep  was  ever  sweeter  than 
the  rest  he  enjoyed  on  the  earth  floor  of  Juan 
Ortega's  adobe  dwelling. 

At  the  surveyors'  camp  he  was  greeted  with  a 
hearty  welcome,  for  he  brought  not  only  the  dis 
patches,  but  mail  and  newspapers  to  men  who  were 
cut  off  from  civilization.  Fowler  urged  him  to 


200  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

prolong  his  stay  and  go  hunting  with  the  party  up 
a  branch  of  the  stream  where  they  were  encamped, 
promising  him  a  wild-cat  skin  or  two,  with  a  chance 
of  seeing  a  grizzly,  but  the  sky  looked  threaten 
ing,  and  Rob  reflected  that  it  would  never  do  to 
get  caught  forty  miles  away  from  any  settlement 
and  over  impassable  trails,  with  the  letter  from 
Norcross  awaiting  him,  and  regretfully  declined  the 
invitation. 

Feeling  sure  of  his  route  on  his  return  trip,  he 
had  more  leisure  to  observe  the  country  through 
which  he  was  traveling.  It  seemed  strange  to  find 
himself  so  near  the  coast  and  convenient  to  seaports, 
and  yet  in  this  vast,  unpeopled  region.  Owing  to 
the  range  that  rose  westward,  shutting  off  the  sea, 
the  district  was  subject  to  greater  extremes  of  heat 
and  cold  in  summer  and  winter.  But  a  few  hun 
dred  feet  above  Fowler's  camp,  snow  was  already 
lying  in  shaded  gulches,  cumbering  the  boughs  of 
tall  pines  with  its  fleecy  mantle.  Yet  this  was  a 
region  of  splendid  altitudes,  rivaling  the  coast  strip 
in  climatic  advantages,  well  watered  and  wooded, 
and  dotted  with  countless  fertile  little  valleys  which 
might  easily  be  made  to  provide  support  for  a  large 
population.  That  it  had  at  one  time  been  densely 
populated  was  demonstrated  by  the  abounding  relics 
telling  of  vanished  races,  great  tumuli  marking  the 
site  of  ruined  villages,  broken  stone  implements, 
and  dim  paintings  on  towering  cliffs. 

Rob  paid  little  heed  to  these  signs  and  tokens. 
His  eyes  were  more  frequently  fixed  on  the  rugged 
heights  bounding  the  northern  horizon,  often  barren 


A  MOUNTAIN   OF  GOLD  201 

to  their  summits  and  royally  tinted  with  rose, 
purple,  yellow,  green,  blue,  —  all  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow.  Was  it  possible  that  nature  had  created 
these  majestic  hills  as  so  many  useless  barriers, 
barren,  unproductive,  interrupting  communication 
and  traffic?  Were  they  not  rather  mammoth  store 
houses  of  treasure,  to  which  no  man  had  yet  found 
the  key? 

The  thought  fascinated  the  boy.  Sometimes  he 
observed,  afar  off,  towering  heights  of  a  pale  rock 
formation  banded  with  the  green  of  malachite. 
Other  cliffs  were  rose-red  in  spots,  looking  as  if 
monstrous  rubies  had  found  a  setting  in  their  bos 
oms.  One  distant  peak  presented  a  solid  front  of 
glistening  white.  Near  at  hand,  the  ledges  were 
weather-worn  and  moss-grown,  and  yielded  little 
satisfaction  when  he  clipped  off  fragments  in  pass 
ing,  but  along  the  banks  of  small  streams  which  he 
crossed,  he  picked  up  fragments  of  quartz,  jasper, 
and  feldspar,  many  tinted,  and  in  some  measure 
portraying  the  glories  of  the  hidden  ledges  from 
which  they  had  been  torn. 

That  night  he  encamped,  from  choice,  on  the 
shore  of  the  Santa  Ysabel,  that  broad  river  which 
fifty  miles  further  north,  after  many  stately  wind 
ings  and  turnings,  finds  its  outlet  in  the  Pacific 
Ocean.  A  projecting  rock  offered  an  ideal  shelter, 
and  there  Rob  spread  his  blankets,  while  his  horse 
grazed  upon  the  luxuriant  grasses  that  fringed  the 
river. 

There  were  trout  in  the  stream,  but  he  had  no 
fishing-tackle,  and  could  only  watch  their  glistening 


202  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

shapes  dart  past  him  as  he  breakfasted  the  next 
morning.  The  stream,  shallow  and  dwindling  to 
a  mere  thread  in  summer,  was  now  swollen  with 
winter  rains.  Above  his  camping-place  it  rippled 
through  a  narrow,  rocky  channel,  and  at  the  point 
of  its  exit  a  hill  of  red  earth  or  clay  rose  to  a  con 
siderable  height,  distinctly  contrasting  with  the  soil 
about  him,  which  was  a  sandy  alluvial  on  the  bottom 
lands  and  a  black  leaf  mould  on  the  hillside. 

Watching  the  yellow  sands  as  the  river  rippled 
over  them,  Rob  remembered  having  seen,  on  his 
trip  along  the  ocean  beach,  the  profitable  placer 
mining  for  years  conducted  by  Chinamen  above  and 
below  this  river's  mouth.  The  gold  found  in  these 
placer  claims  was  washed  down  from  the  mountains 
through  which  he  was  now  traveling,  but  although 
experienced  prospectors  had  searched  them  time 
and  again,  no  quartz  ledge  could  be  found  which 
would  account  for  the  presence  of  the  precious  metal 
in  such  quantities  on  the  beach.  Yet  if  the  gold 
were  actually  carried  down  by  the  river  and  depos 
ited  along  the  sands  of  the  ocean  beach,  why  should 
not  similar  deposits  occur  higher  up,  at  the  place 
where  he  was  sitting,  for  instance?  He  resolved 
that  as  soon  as  he  had  finished  his  breakfast  he 
would  take  his  frying-pan  and  wash  a  little  of  the 
sand,  as  the  miners  were  accustomed  to  try  fresh 
places  along  the  beach. 

With  this  fascinating  sport  in  prospect,  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  he  made  quick  work  of  the  remain 
der  of  his  meal.  As  soon  as  he  had  drained  his 
tin  coffee-cup,  he  began  to  scoop  a  hole  in  the  sand 


A  MOUNTAIN   OF  GOLD  203 

with  it,  this  and  his  shallow  frying-pan  being  his 
only  available  utensils.  Although  water  seeped  in 
and  filled  the  hole  almost  as  fast  as  he  could  bail 
it,  he  came  at  length  to  a  streak  of  black  magnetic 
sand,  which  he  recognized  as  the  gold-bearing  de 
posit  in  the  Chinese  diggings.  This  he  ladled  into 
the  pan,  rocking  it  and  swashing  it  about  in  the 
shallow  water  as  he  had  seen  the  miners  do.  It 
was  slow  and  discouraging  work,  for  the  pan  held 
but  a  handful  of  sand,  and  although  he  filled  it 
again  and  again,  not  the  slightest  "color"  rewarded 
his  exertions. 

Eob  now  advanced  up  the  river-bank,  scooping 
other  holes  and  making  repeated  tests,  but  the  re 
sult  was  always  the  same.  When  he  reached  the 
point  where  the  red  hill  interrupted  the  course  of 
the  stream,  he  eyed  it  curiously.  It  seemed  to  be 
composed  of  a  stiff,  pasty  material  in  which  small 
pebbles  and  fragments  of  rock  were  imbedded. 

"You're  queer-looking  stuff,  but  I'm  going  to 
have  a  try  at  you !  "  he  cried. 

The  clay  was  peculiarly  tenacious,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  take  his  jackknife  from  his  pocket  and 
pick  away  at  it  before  he  could  loosen  it.  When 
he  had  secured  a  fragment,  he  pulverized  it  between 
some  smooth,  water-worn  stones  before  placing  it 
in  the  pan.  Then  he  stooped  down  beside  the 
river,  extending  it  at  arm's  length  and  rocking  it 
mechanically,  paying  little  attention  to  its  contents, 
but  watching  the  trout  as  they  flashed  up  and  down 
stream.  After  a  while  he  saw  that  the  earth  had 
been  washed  away,  and  that  the  pan  was  empty.  He 


204  THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

listlessly  looked  at  the  bottom  before  refilling  it, "to 
give  the  red  hill  another  chance,"  as  he  mentally 
phrased  it. 

Empty  ?  What  were  those  glittering  yellow  par 
ticles  lying  on  the  black  iron?  He  bent  close  to 
the  pan  and  counted  one,  two,  three,  four!  Tilting 
the  pan  to  one  side,  he  counted  again,  with  the  same 
result.  Perhaps  it  was  only  mica,  —  "fool's  gold." 
He  poured  a  little  water  over  the  yellow  grains. 
Mica  does  not  lie,  dull  and  heavy,  in  the  bottom  of 
a  pan,  with  a  current  of  water  flowing  over  it. 

Amazed  at  this  result,  not  daring  to  credit  the 
evidence  of  his  senses,  Rob  spread  out  his  hand 
kerchief  and  laid  the  yellow  grains  upon  it.  He 
dug  out  another  chunk  of  the  red  clay  and  washed 
it  in  the  pan,  very  circumspectly  this  time,  tilting 
it  carefully,  and  vigilantly  watching  lest  an  unwary 
movement  should  wash  earth  and  all  into  the  river. 
When  the  clay  began  to  dissolve  and  mire  the 
water,  he  cautiously  removed  the  pebbles  with  his 
fingers,  and  afterwards  picked  out  the  tinier  frag 
ments  of  rock  with  painstaking  touch.  This  time 
there  were  a  full  half  dozen  of  the  yellow  particles 
in  the  bottom  of  the  pan. 

Hour  after  hour  the  lad  continued  his  labors, 
undisturbed  by  any  passing  travelers.  It  was  only 
when  a  light  mist  began  to  fall,  and  he  realized  that 
the  promised  storm  was  at  last  upon  him,  that  he 
packed  up  his  traps  and  began  the  ascent  of  the 
Vernal  Hills. 

Robert  Judith  was  a  good  enough  arithmetician 
to  be  able  to  calculate  an  approximate  measurement 


A  MOUNTAIN  OF  GOLD  205 

of  the  red  hill.  He  realized  that  if  a  few  spoonfuls 
of  earth,  handled  by  inexperienced  hands  and  with 
the  awkward  utensils  he  had  used,  could  yield  half 
a  thimbleful  of  gold,  there  was  untold  wealth  in 
the  entire  hill,  with  its  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  tons. 

He  had  gone  up  into  the  mountains  a  beggar 
and  an  outcast,  trembling  before  the  prospect  of 
arrest  for  a  beggarly  sum  of  misappropriated  funds. 
He  was  returning  a  Croesus,  with  unlimited  riches 
waiting  only  for  his  taking.  How  absurd  seemed 
the  troubles  which  had  weighted  him  down!  He 
could  pay  back  the  trifling  sum  he  had  taken  from 
old  Norcross  ten  times  over  —  could  buy  him  out  — 
defy  him  in  the  courts.  He  'd  only  like  to  see  Nor 
cross  attempt  to  dictate  terms  to  him ! 

Generous  thoughts  mingled  with  these  trium 
phant  reflections.  Amy  should  never  know  another 
want  or  care.  He  would  build  her  a  beautiful 
home,  surround  her  with  every  luxury,  do  every 
thing  in  his  power  to  make  her  life  a  bright  and 
easy  one.  If  people  were  not  disposed  to  treat  him 
civilly  or  showed  any  inclination  to  throw  up  his 
old  mistake  at  him,  they  would  just  leave  the  coun 
try  altogether,  he  and  Amy,  and  take  up  quarters 
in  some  gay  foreign  capital,  London  or  Paris.  A 
fellow  he  had  once  known,  who  had  got  into  some 
trouble  in  San  Francisco,  had  gone  to  Paris  and 
was  living  like  a  prince  there,  he  had  heard.  In 
those  foreign  capitals  people  were  not  so  confound 
edly  impertinent  and  prying  as  they  were  in  Amer 
ica.  They  were  content  to  take  a  fellow  for  what 


206  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

he  was.  They  didn't  ask  uncomfortable  questions 
about  what  he  had  been. 

As  for  Mr.  Paul,  —  well,  Mr.  Paul  had  been  a 
pretty  decent  sort  of  fellow.  He  would  take  him 
into  the  thing  in  some  shape  or  other :  perhaps  give 
him  enpugh  to  set  him  up  in  business  by  and  by. 

He  left  the  horse  at  Mr.  Paul's  cabin,  which  was 
closed,  and  with  a  springing  stride  and  a  lordly  air, 
strode  along  the  trail  leading  to  the  cottage  and 
climbed  the  steps  leading  to  it. 

Amy  came  to  meet  him,  an  expression  of  relief 
and  welcome  dispersing  the  clouds  on  her  troubled 
face,  as  she  saw  him.  Mr.  Paul  was  there,  and  in 
his  hand  he  held  an  open  letter. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

A   STARTLING  ANNOUNCEMENT 

"You  have  been  gone  so  long.  I  've  been  wor 
ried  to  death  about  you.  And  you  are  wet  and 
tired,  Kob." 

"Nothing  but  a  little  dampness.  It 's  only  on  the 
outside,"  said  the  boy  indifferently.  "And  tired! 
Not  a  bit  of  it !  I  could  tramp  a  dozen  miles  more. 
In  fact,  I  've  had  such  rare  fun,  I  'm  thinking  of 
going  back  to-morrow  morning." 

Had  fear  and  anxiety  and  the  lonely  journey 
turned  the  young  brain  and  the  lad  gone  daft? 
His  hearers  listened  to  him  in  amazement. 

"  I ' ve  no  doubt  it  is  very  novel  and  interesting 
across  the  range,  Rob,"  said  Amy  gently.  "But 
just  now  we  have  something  of  importance  to  con 
sider.  Mr.  Norcross  has  written.  You  were  not 
here,  and  we  didn't  know  when  you  would  come. 
So  we  thought  it  best  to  open  the  letter.  I  hope 
you  don't  mind." 

"Of  course  not.  It's  all  one  to  me,"  returned 
Rob  flippantly. 

"I  knew  when  I  saw  the  bulky  envelope,  Rob, 
that  its  contents  wouldn't  be  agreeable.  When 
people  have  kind  acts  to  perform,  they  can  gener 
ally  put  their  promises  into  few  words.  Still,  we 
had  no  right  to  expect  anything  better." 


208  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"What  has  the  old  man  to  say?"  queried  Rob 
irreverently. 

"It  isn't  a  pleasant  letter,  Rob,  and  its  terms 
are  hard,"  his  sister  went  on,  feeling  that  he  should 
be  forewarned,  if  he  fancied  there  would  be  an  easy 
way  out  of  his  difficulties. 

"  Oh,  I  expected  he  would  try  to  make  some  kind 
of  a  Shylock  bargain.  I  was  prepared  for  that," 
returned  Rob  jauntily,  reaching  for  the  letter. 

Amy  could  not  understand  the  singular  change  in 
his  tone  and  manner,  but  her  heart  was  like  lead  in 
her  bosom. 

"A  deuce  of  a  hand!"  declared  Rob,  examining 
the  superscription  of  the  envelope.  "There  's  only 
one  thing  more  complex  than  the  old  captain's  hand 
writing,  and  that 's  the  inscription  on  the  Rosetta 
Stone." 

Rob  moved  to  a  window  to  get  in  a  better  light, 
and  began  the  perusal  of  the  closely  written  sheets. 

The  letter  began  as  civilly  and  coldly  as  if  it  had 
been  addressed  to  one  of  the  old  gentleman's  formal 
business  acquaintances :  — 

MR.  ROBERT  JUDITH,  — 

Dear  Sir :  Your  letter  of  the  —  inst.  received 
to-day,  upon  my  return  from  a  trip  up  country.  I 
will  not  dwell  upon  the  painful  shock  of  the  intelli 
gence  it  contains,  nor  expatiate  upon  the  iniquity 
of  betraying  the  trust  which  I,  as  your  employer, 
reposed  in  you,  for  the  simple  reason  that  if  you 
have  not  already  realized  these  for  yourself,  no 
words  of  mine  could  make  you  feel  them. 


A  STARTLING  ANNOUNCEMENT  209 

.  .  .  Yet,  whether  you  're  acting  on  your  own 
impulse  or  under  advice,  I  like  the  spirit  in  you 
which  stands  up  to  confess  your  fault  and  take  its 
consequences,  and  feel  like  meeting  you  halfway 
and  giving  you  a  chance  to  redeem  your  error.  .  .  . 
I  don't  know  whether  it  mightn't  be  considered 
compounding  a  felony,  to  let  you  go  scot-free  from 
punishment,  but  it  seems  to  me  a  man  does  a  better 
service  to  society  and  to  himself  when  he  saves  a 
boy  from  wearing  a  felon's  stripes  and  becoming 
a  charge  upon  the  community,  and  at  the  same  time 
offers  him  an  opportunity  to  make  good  the  injury 
he  has  done,  than  when  he  pockets  his  loss  and  puts 
the  offender  behind  the  bars.  So  I  '11  give  you 
twelve  months  to  make  those  bonds  good,  Robert 
Judith.  Twelve  months,  no  more;  and  the  sum 
must  be  repaid  with  interest  in  full.  But  I  'm  not 
making  this  concession  as  an  empty  form,  intending 
to  let  you  off  if  you  fail  to  raise  the  money.  I  '11 
take  your  note  for  the  amount,  indorsed  by  some 
responsible  man.  With  the  friends  you  have,  you 
should  have  no  difficulty  in  securing  this  indorse 
ment,  if  you  go  about  the  matter  in  earnest  and 
show  an  industrious  and  sober  spirit.  But  mind 
my  words:  It's  only  on  parole  I'm  placing  you. 
I  '11  have  an  eye  on  you  all  the  time,  and  if  you 
don't  keep  your  compact  and  the  note  is  n't' met  at 
the  expiration  of  that  time,  I  '11  know  you  are  not 
sincere  in  making  this  proposition,  and  I  will  see 
that  you  pay  the  full  penalty  of  the  law  for  your 
offense.  Truly  yours, 

EDWARD  NORCROSS. 


210  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

P.  S.  I  don't  know  whether  you  will  care  to 
learn  that  your  confession  has  relieved  an  innocent 
man  from  suspicion. 

The  odd  commingling  of  kindly  impulse  and  keen 
commercial  interest,  the  queer  philanthropy  which 
could  find  exercise  only  in  strict  harmony  with  the 
writer's  material  interests,  might  at  another  time 
have  provoked  the  amusement  of  the  three,  but  so 
deeply  absorbed  were  two  of  them  in  considering 
the  letter's  provisions  that  they  passed  its  incon 
gruities  in  silence. 

"One  year's  grace!  It's  a  pretty  short  shrift, 
Rob,"  said  Mr.  Paul. 

"You  can  never  do  it!  "  cried  Amy,  in  despair. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can!  "  said  Rob  confidently. 

"This  is  no  question  of  '  can  '  or  '  can't.'  We 
must  do  it,"  said  Mr.  Paul.  "But  we  '11  have  to  put 
on  our  thinking-caps,  my  boy,  and  do  some  bright 
planning,  to  work  our  way  out  in  so  short  a  time." 

Through  Rob's  excited  mind  there  coursed  a  con 
viction  that  Mr.  Paul  was  acting  more  than  de 
cently  :  he  was  really  behaving  handsomely  in  thus 
frankly  enlisting  in  a  project  to  raise  what  must 
seem  to  him  —  poor  fellow !  —  a  prodigious  sum  of 
money.  And  he  evidently  had  a  hard  enough  time 
to  scrub  along  himself,  judging  from  the  sorry  look 
of  his  garden,  of  which  the  boy  had  caught  a  pass 
ing  glimpse.  He  would  do  more  than  set  Mr.  Paul 
up  in  business.  He  would  take  him  in  as  a  mining 
partner,  full  and  square  division. 

"I  don't  think  we  '11  have  to  plan  so  very  hard," 


A  STARTLING  ANNOUNCEMENT  211 

said  the  young  fellow,  with  what  seemed  to  his 
hearers  a  reckless  bravado. 

"Why,  Rob,  what  are  you  thinking  of?  It's  a 
very  large  sum  of  ready  money  to  raise,  and  our 
resources  are  so  limited.  At  the  very  best,  we  '11 
have  to  plan,  and  contrive,  and  work  our  fingers  off 
to  get  it,"  said  Amy  chidingly. 

"I  don't  propose  to  work  or  plan,  but  I  'm  going 
to  have  the  money,  —  piles  of  it,  and  to  spare!" 
said  Rob  tranquilly,  sticking  his  hands  in  his  pock 
ets  and  looking  down  upon  her;  and  the  secret  he 
had  brought  back  from  the  mountains  was  in  his 
sparkling  eyes. 

He  pulled  out  a  handkerchief,  a  boy's  linen  hand 
kerchief  with  a  ragged  hem,  now  damp  and  grimy 
and  tied  up  in  a  wad.  With  nervous  fingers  he 
undid  the  knot  and  spread  its  contents  before  Mr. 
Paul's  astonished  eyes. 

"What  do  you  call  that?"  he  demanded  tri 
umphantly. 

Mr.  Paul  carried  the  handkerchief  and  its  con 
tents  to  the  light. 

"Call  it?"  he  said  pleasantly.  "There's  only 
one  metal  that  has  that  dull  yellow  sheen  and  weight. 
I  call  it  placer  washings  of  the  very  richest  sort. 
No  light  flakes,  but  little  compact  grains  that  weigh 
down  like  the  miniature  nuggets  they  are.  Where 
did  you  get  them,  Rob?  " 

"No,  sir,  I'm  not  going  to  think,  or  plan,  or 
work,"  said  the  boy  rejoicingly,  disregarding  Mr. 
Paul's  inquiry.  "I'm  not  going  to  do  it  because 
I  know  an  easier  way  of  making  money.  I  have 
found  a  mountain  of  gold!  " 


CHAPTER   XXV 

ROB   TELLS   HIS   STORY 

"A  MOUNTAIN  of  gold!"  said  Amy  Judith  in 
credulously. 

"A  mountain  of  gold!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Paul, 
and  in  his  voice  there  was  also  a  skeptical  note 
which  Rob  did  not  fail  to  observe,  and  he  silently 
cut  down  Mr.  Paul's  share  as  a  prospective  partner. 

"Yes,  a  mountain  of  gold,"  declared  Rob,  with 
dignity.  "At  any  rate,  if  this  is  gold,  — and  even 
Mr.  Paul  seems  disposed  to  acknowledge  it  is,  — 
there  's  a  small  mountain  of  the  same  stuff  where  it 
comes  from." 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Mr.  Paul,  "I'd  like  only 
too  well  to  have  you  find  a  whole  mountain  range 
of  gold,  but  when  all  the  expert  geologists  in  the 
country  and  all  the  surviving  Forty-niners  have 
prospected  these  mountains  and  assert  that  the 
formation  absolutely  will  not  admit  of  its  presence, 
what  am  I  to  think?  " 

"  Oh,  think  that  I ' ve  been  tapping  the  till  of 
some  old  Greaser  over  there,  as  I  did  with  old  Nor- 
cross." 

The  boy  was  so  carried  away  by  the  excitement 
of  his  remarkable  discovery  that  he  felt  as  if  some 
wheels  in  his  head  had  been  loosened,  and  was 
scarcely  responsible  for  his  reckless  speech. 


ROB  TELLS  HIS  STORY  213 

"Why,  Rob!  "  said  his  sister,  in  a  shocked  voice. 

Rob  brought  himself  up  with  a  round  turn, 
schooling  himself  to  think  steadily  and  to  weigh  his 
words. 

"I  didn't  realize  what  I  was  saying,  Amy, 
truly  I  didn't.  I  've  been  so  hopeless,  and  knocked 
about  in  such  rough  places  this  month  past,  and 
now  to  have  this  wonderful  thing  happen  "  — 

She  understood,  without  need  of  any  further  ex 
planation.  She  patted  his  hand  gently,  and  Mr. 
Paul  ignored  the  rudeness  of  the  speech. 

"  Where  did  you  find  it,  and  how  did  you  come 
to  chance  upon  it,  Rob?" 

"I  was  thinking,  all  the  way  home,  about  the 
gold  strung  along  the  beach  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Santa  Ysabel  River,  and  the  mystery  of  where  it 
came  from,  for  you  know  everybody  says  the  river 
brings  it  down.  Then  Fowler  and  his  men  were 
stuffing  me  with  a  fable  about  the  '  Padre's  lost 
mine, '  —  telling  me  how  the  old  Mission  fathers  had 
hoards  of  gold  that  they  used  to  get  somewhere  up 
in  the  mountains,  and  how  one  of  them  died  and 
the  secret  of  the  mine's  location  had  been  lost.  I 
did  n't  take  any  stock  in  the  story,  for  I  could  see 
they  were  guying  me  and  trying  to  stir  me  up  about 
it.  But  it  set  me  to  thinking  and  watching  out  as 
I  came  back." 

"As  thousands  of  men  have  thought  and  '  watched 
out,'  "  said  Mr.  Paul  smiling;  "I  among  the  num 
ber,  Rob.  But  go  on  with  your  tale." 

"  I  chipped  away  at  every  rock  and  ledge  I  passed 
within  reach  of,  traveling  on  foot  almost  all  the 


214  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

way,"  continued  the  boy.  "But  the  most  of  them 
were  nothing  but  rotten  old  sandstone,  and  I  was 
disgusted.  When  I  came  to  where  the  trail  crosses 
the  river,  I  camped  there  for  the  night." 

"Under  the  shelf  of  rock?     I  know  the  place." 

"Close  by  there  I  saw  a  big  hill  of  some  red 
stuff,  that  seemed  to  have  risen  out  of  the  bed  of 
the  river." 

"I  remember  it,"  said  Mr.  Paul.  "It  is  con 
spicuous  because  it  differs  so  from  everything  else 
in  the  country  around.  Fowler  and  I  picked  away 
at  it  a  little.  He  said  it  took  its  color  from  the 
cinnabar  in  it,  but  was  n't  rich  enough  to  work  for 
quicksilver.  And  as  quicksilver  and  gold  are  in 
consistencies  in  any  geological  formation  "  — 

"I  don't  care  a  straw  for  inconsistencies  or  geo 
logical  formations,"  interrupted  Rob  somewhat  in 
coherently.  "It's  from  that  very  hill  that  I  took 
all  my  'pay  dirt,'  and  if  you  don't  believe  me, 
here 's  a  chunk  of  the  dirt  itself  that  I  brought 
along  to  show  you." 

Mr.  Paul  took  the  stuff  in  his  hand. 

"  It  certainly  looks  like  the  cinnabar  earth  Fowler 
and  I  examined,"  he  said  quietly. 

"There  's  a  monstrous  lot  of  it,  and  the  water  's 
right  there  to  wash  it  with,"  pursued  Rob  exult- 
ingly.  "It 's  a  big  fortune  right  in  sight." 

"Blessings  on  you  for  a  tenderfoot,  Rob!"  said 
Mr.  Paul.  "No  miner  of  experience  would  ever 
have  looked  twice  at  that  red  hill.  Learning  and 
experience  are  serious  bars  to  progress.  It 's  the 


ROB  TELLS   HIS  STORY  215 

ignoramuses,  who  have  nothing  to  unlearn,  who  are 
making  the  world  over,  these  days." 

"I  don't  care  where  you  rate  me.  It 's  the  shek 
els  I'm  after,"  said  the  boy  smartly.  "Do  you 
wonder  I  snap  my  fingers  at  old  Norcross  now?" 

Neither  the  man  nor  the  woman  answered.  Over 
Amy's  face  there  swept  an  expression  of  keen  pain. 
Rob  went  on  briskly :  — 

"  We  ought  to  get  ready  to  go  over  right  away, 
Mr.  Paul.  Don't  you  think  so?  The  Chinamen 
up  around  Point  Sal  have  a  simple  way  of  washing 
out  the  dirt  with  a  string  of  riffles.  There  's  timber 
over  there,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  build  them  on 
the  spot.  It  seems  a  pity  to  lose  any  time." 

"You'll  have  to  lose  time  now,  Rob.  There's 
no  crossing  that  trail  in  this  weather,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  lack  of  shelter  if  we  were  there.  Listen." 

There  was  no  need  of  this  injunction.  A  heavy 
shower  was  falling  like  a  rain  of  bullets  on  the  roof 
of  the  paper  house,  making  a  deafening  clatter. 

"Here  's  a  pretty  go!  "  exclaimed  Rob  fretfully. 

"Merely  a  lesson  in  patience.  We  have  to  take 
them  all  along  the  way,"  rejoined  the  young  man. 

Rob  paid  little  attention  to  this  speech.  He 
was  examining  the  postscript  to  Captain  Norcross' 
letter. 

"Hello!  What's  this?  'Relieved  an  innocent 
man  of  suspicion !  '  My  soul !  I  wonder  if  it  could 
have  been  Brainerd.  Brainerd  's  the  very  pink  of 
propriety  and  uprightness,"  he  explained,  turning 
to  Mr.  Paul.  "And  conscientious!  Lord,  how 
conscientious!  He  wouldn't  touch  so  much  as  a 


216  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

pin,  if  he  had  n't  a  clear  title  to  it.  Actually  used 
to  lecture  the  boys  when  they  took  stamps  for  their 
personal  letters  from  the  company's  drawer!  It 
would  be  a  rough  one  on  old  Brainerd,  if  they 
thought  he  had  taken  the  bonds." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
"WATTING  TILL  THE  CLOUDS  PASS  BY" 

BEFORE  Mr.  Paul  left  that  day,  they  held  a  seri 
ous  conference  on  the  subject  of  the  note  exacted 
by  Norcross. 

"I  don't  see  any  use  fussing  over  that!"  cried 
Rob  impatiently.  "Just  wait  till  this  rain  stops, 
and  we  get  over  to  that  mountain  of  gold,  and  I  '11 
paralyze  the  old  captain  by  meeting  his  demands  a 
year  ahead  of  time." 

"Norcross  will  expect  an  answer  to  his  letter 
inside  of  forty-eight  hours,"  insisted  Mr.  Paul. 
"Until  he  has  the  note  and  accepts  it,  he  may  count 
himself  free  to  retract  his  promise." 

".But  the  '  responsible  person  '  whom  he  requires 
to  indorse  it!  I  don't  see  whom  we  could  ask," 
said  Amy  hopelessly.  "We  have  n't  a  near  relative 
in  the  world.  I  can't  think  of  a  single  friend  upon 
whom  I  would  dare  to  call.  And  he  requires  it. 
He  will  not  accept  the  note  unless  he  has  the  in 
dorsement.  He  says  so  very  positively." 

"I  wonder  if  he  would  accept  me,"  said  the  young 
man  diffidently. 

"You!"  cried  Rob,  in  a  tone  that  was  far  from 
complimentary. 

Mr.  Paul  smiled. 

"Before  I  lost  my  fairy  purse,  people  had  some 


218  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

confidence  in  me.  It  would  be  interesting  to  ascer 
tain  whether  they  have  lost  it.  And  I  used  to  know 
Norcross  slightly,  as  I  think  I  once  told  you, 
Eob." 

He  did  not  add,  as  he  might  have  done,  that  he 
had  once  been  the  honored  guest  of  this  same  mil 
lionaire,  and  had  sat  at  his  host's  right  hand  at  a 
dinner  party  where  many  prominent  guests  were  as 
sembled.  Instead,  he  found  himself  seeking  Amy 
Judith's  eyes,  and  was  surprised  to  see  that  they 
were  filled  with  tears.  Somehow,  although  she  did 
not  clearly  understand  Mr.  Paul's  fable  of  the 
magic  purse,  any  reference  to  it  always  touched  her 
deeply. 

That  night  the  note  was  drawn  up  in  due  form, 
Mr.  Paul  wrote  his  name  upon  the  back,  and, 
adding  a  few  lines  to  Norcross,  himself  sealed  and 
addressed  the  communication  to  the  rich  ship 
owner. 

This  storm  was  a  memorable  one  in  the  history 
of  the  Vernal  Hills.  It  was  not  only  the  heaviest 
of  the  season,  but  it  broke  the  Signal  Service  record, 
bringing  the  heaviest  rainfall  registered  in  all  that 
region  since  the  clerk  of  the  weather  went  into  office. 

Along  the  coast,  wharves  and  piers  suffered  great 
damage,  warehouses  were  flooded,  and  harbors 
shoaled  by  the  powerful  currents  of  debris  that 
swept  down  from  the  mountains.  Streams  ran  at 
high  flood-mark,  fences  and  buildings  and  bridges 
were  carried  away,  cattle  were  drowned,  and  havoc 
was  played  with  every  nicely  cultivated  hillside,  the 
ground  being  cut  into  vertical  furrows  to  afford 


WAITING  TILL  THE  CLOUDS  PASS  BY       219 

channels  for  the  rain,  so  that  it  looked  as  though 
gigantic  ploughs  had  taken  their  way  straight  down 
the  slopes. 

The  small  brook  running  between  Mr.  Paul's 
cabin  and  mesa,  which  had  been  completely  dry  all 
the  fall,  overflowed  its  banks,  making  a  torrent  that 
was  for  a  few  days  impassable. 

For  six  days  and  six  nights  the  rain  poured  down 
almost  without  cessation.  At  the  end  of  that  pe 
riod  the  weather  broke  into  April  smiles  and  tears, 
shower  succeeding  shower,  with  intervals  of  bright 
sunshine  between,  until  at  length  all  the  clouds 
seemed  to  have  wept  themselves  dry,  and,  changing 
to  white-winged  craft,  scudded  off  to  the  interior 
valleys. 

This  period  of  waiting  was  a  trying  one  to  Miss 
Amy.  Rob,  intolerant  of  delay  in  the  realization 
of  a  princely  fortune,  fumed  and  fretted  over  this 
untimely  dispensation  of  Providence.  It  mattered, 
not  to  him  that  farmers  and  stockmen  were  rejoi 
cing,  that  empty  water-courses  were  being  replen 
ished,  wells  and  reservoirs  were  filling,  and  the 
thorough  saturation  of  the  ground  was  paving  the 
way  for  a  season  of  unusual  prosperity.  He  was 
in  a  state  of  hot  rebellion  against  every  one  and 
everything,  and  divided  his  time  between  a  savage 
espionage  of  the  sky  from  the  shelter  of  the  cottage 
roof,  and  frequent  trips  to  the  village  to  learn  the 
latest  forecasts  of  the  weather  bureau. 

Incidentally,  he  ascertained  the  local  mining-laws 
regulating  the  taking  up  of  placer  claims,  and  pre 
pared  several  elaborate  notices  to  post  upon  the 


220  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

ground  in  the  vicinity  of  his  rich  discovery,  when 
he  should  be  able  to  begin  operations. 

During  one  of  these  absences,  Mr.  Paul,  passing 
the  cottage,  saw  a  fair  face  at  the  open  door, 
wearing  a  look  of  patient  sorrow  which  went  to  his 
heart. 

"You  are  wearing  your  life  out  over  that  boy," 
he  said  brusquely,  as  he  entered. 

"Oh,  no.  But  he  has  been  so  long  away.  He 
is  changing  so;  this  strange  restlessness"  — 

"Is  nothing  but  boy  nature.  Leave  him  alone, 
and  he  will  find  his  balance,"  urged  the  young  man, 
with  a  confidence  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

"I  am  afraid  —  oh,  I  am  afraid  "  — 

The  girl  turned  again  to  the  window,  her  fair 
head  bowed  as  some  delicate  flower  of  the  woods 
bends  before  a  harsh  blast,  and  the  young  man 
knew  that  tears  were  gathering  in  the  wistful  eyes. 

With  an  impulsive  movement  he  crossed  the 
room,  standing  so  close  beside  her  that  her  bright 
head  touched  his  breast  as  she  lifted  her  face  at  his 
touch. 

There  was  infinite  tenderness  in  his  low  speech :  — 

"Amy,  lay  all  your  cares  here.  Let  this  be  your 
shelter  for  evermore." 

For  an  instant  her  head  rested  there.  A  great 
gladness  coursed  through  the  man's  being.  The 
strength  of  Samson  was  in  his  veins;  he  felt  all- 
powerful  to  strive  for,  to  defend,  to  cherish  this 
fair  young  existence  whom  a  blessed  Providence  had 
confided  to  his  care.  Like  Samson,  his  strength 
was  slain,  and  by  a  woman's  hands.  For  the  girl 


WAITING  TILL  THE  CLOUDS  PASS  BY        221 

slipped  from  his  clasp,  her  pale  face  aflame,  the 
keenest  reproach  in  her  eyes.  Her  voice  rang  out 
stern  and  cold :  — 

"  Mr.  Paul,  remember  !  Remember  —  do  you 
think  I  have  forgotten  ?  —  that  evening  at  your 
cabin — the  black  curtain?"  she  cried  incoher 
ently,  for  in  her  mind  the  incident  of  the  portrait 
and  the  fantastic  vision  in  which  the  curtain  had 
played  its  part  were  strangely  confused. 

All  youth  and  hope  seemed  to  die  out  of  the 
man's  face  at  her  words. 

"You  do  well  to  remind  me,"  he  said.  "The 
shadow  of  the  black  curtain  falls  between  me  and 
every  joy  in  life." 

Mystified  by  this  speech,  she  was  about  to  make 
reply,  when  Rob  threw  open  the  door,  his  face 
alight  with  joyful  expectation. 

"  The  storm  is  over.  The  bulletin  has  just  come !  " 
he  cried. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

THE  TREASURE-SEEKERS 

ROB  would  have  started  across  the  range  the  next 
day  after  the  rain  ceased,  had  not  Mr.  Paul  pointed 
out  to  him  the  folly  of  such  an  undertaking. 

"The  trail  will  be  slippery  as  grease,  and  washed 
away  in  places.  We  must  wait  for  it  to  drain  off 
and  dry.  Besides,  we  shall  have  to  pack  over 
supplies,  if  we  expect  to  make  an  extended  stay. 
Moreover,  you  are  forgetting  one  thing,  Eob." 

"What's  that?" 

"We  ought  to  hear  from  Norcross  before  going. 
He  may  not  accept  my  indorsement." 

The  boy  colored. 

"It  seems  a  perfect  farce,  the  whole  thing,  with 
such  prospects  in  sight.  But  of  course  Norcross 
doesn't  know." 

"  And  would  probably  not  accept  '  prospects, '  if 
he  did  know.  These  conservative  rich  men  don't 
often  trade  on  anything  but  certainties.  The  very 
suggestion  of  speculation  is  a  bugbear  to  them." 

"That's  all  right.  I  don't  ask  him  to  take  an 
interest.  There  are  no  shares  for  sale  in  this  mine, 
Mr.  Paul,"  returned  the  boy  gayly.  "I  dare  say 
you  are  right  about  wishing  to  hear  from  him,  and 
it  was  awfully  good  of  you  to  indorse  it.  But  I  '11 
make  that  good  to  you.  You  '11  see! " 


THE  TREASURE-SEEKERS  223 

"Look  here,  Rob,"  said  Mr.  Paul  sharply, 
"we'd  better  have  a  clear  understanding  about 
this  thing  and  done  with  it.  I  did  n't  put  my  name 
to  that  note  because  you  had  a  rich  gold  mine  over 
the  range,  nor  even  because  you  were  a  boy  in  seri 
ous  trouble.  I  did  it  because  you  were  your  sister's 
brother." 

This  unexpected  rejoinder  gave  Rob  something  to 
think  about,  and  for  a  time  he  ceased  to  vaunt  the 
glory  of  his  prospective  wealth.  He  even  cheerfully 
joined  the  young  man  in  ploughing  and  planting  a 
hillside  which  the  latter  had  cleared  the  preceding 
fall,  and  which  he  had  decided  to  put  into  Kaffir 
corn,  a  new  forage  plant  which  he  had  been  assured 
would  yield  treble  the  amount  of  fodder  to  be  ex 
pected  from  barley.  This  hillside,  being  steep  and 
gravelly,  had  quickly  drained,  and  looked  nice  and 
mealy  when  the  deep  furrows  had  been  harrowed 
over  the  seed. 

A  day  came  which  dawned  bright  and  clear,  and 
Mr.  Paul  declared  the  trail  in  shape  for  traveling. 
Their  preparations  were  few  and  simple.  If  Rob 
could  have  had  his  own  way,  he  would  have  started 
out  with  a  pack-train  incumbered  with  all  manner 
of  baggage,  tools,  and  supplies,  procured  on  credit 
on  the  strength  of  the  glittering  prospects  ahead; 
but  the  older  man's  prudent  counsels  prevailed. 

"It 's  a  good  principle  to  never  spend  your  money 
before  you  get  it,  my  boy,"  he  sagely  advised. 

"But  we'll  have  to  take  picks  and  shovels  and 
blankets  and  things,"  Rob  insisted. 

"As  we  can't  each  be  picking  and  shoveling  at 


224  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

one  and  the  same  time,  a  tool  apiece  ought  to  be 
enough.  It 's  not  more  than  eight  miles  to  the 
river,  and  if  you  and  I  can't  make  the  trip  afoot, 
we  're  not  worthy  to  be  counted  as  millionaires, 
Rob.  My  sorrel  can  carry  a  couple  of  hundred 
pounds'  pack,  and  this  will  include  our  blankets  and 
the  few  utensils  we  really  need,  as  well  as  a  week's 
provisions.  When  we  have  put  in  a  week's  steady 
work  over  there,  we  can  plan  more  intelligently  for 
the  future." 

Mr.  Paul  proved  an  expert  packer.  Upon  the 
arms  of  the  wooden  pack-saddle  he  hung  two  great 
rawhide  sacks,  in  which  were  stored  the  provisions. 
Bound  along  the  animal's  back,  in  parallel  lines, 
were  the  tools  required  for  the  expedition,  while 
above  all  rose  a  bale  of  bedding,  surmounted  by  a 
roll  of  rubber  blankets  designed  for  protection  in 
case  of  storms.  Rob  viewed  the  horse  with  a  keen 
appreciation  of  his  ludicrous  aspect. 

"It  looks  like  a  good  deal  more  pack  than  horse !  " 
he  declared  merrily. 

He  laughed  good-naturedly  when  he  saw  Mr.  Paul 
add  to  the  pack  a  jointed  rod  of  sumptuous  work 
manship,  and  carefully  place  in  his  pocket  a  case 
of  elaborate  trout-flies.  Evidently  the  young  man 
was  a  devoted  disciple  of  the  venerable  Izaak. 

"All  right,  if  you  want  to  take  them.  I  don't 
think,  myself,  we  '11  have  much  time  or  inclination 
for  fishing!"  remarked  Rob,  with  lofty  condescen 
sion. 

"Amy  might  enjoy  a  mess  of  trout  when  we  come 
back,"  said  the  young  man  quietly. 


THE   TREASURE-SEEKERS  225 

Rob  was  secretly  amused  at  this  very  prosaic 
consideration  for  his  little  sister's  material  wants. 
He  himself  had  much  more  ambitious  plans  for  her, 
and  it  was  natural  that  homely  considerations  such 
as  these  should  be  excluded  from  his  more  brilliant 
projects. 

They  started  out  single  file,  one  leading  and  the 
other  following  the  little  sorrel.  All  things  had 
taken  on  a  new  aspect  since  the  refreshing  down 
pour.  The  whole  face  of  nature  seemed  to  be  newly 
washed.  In  the  higher  altitudes  tender  plantlets 
were  already  peeping  through  the  moist  earth,  and 
shrubs  that  clothed  the  northern  slopes  were  taking 
heart  for  another  season's  gracious  endeavor,  put 
ting  forth  buds  and  blossoms. 

Rob  was  a  little  depressed  at  the  start.  His  sister 
had  parted  from  him  with  a  singularly  sad  counte 
nance,  considering  the  joyful  nature  of  his  mission. 

"I  wonder  if  Amy  thinks  I  've  deceived  her  about 
this  thing,"  he  pondered.  "Or  more  likely  she 
has  no  faith  in  Mr.  Paul's  judgment  as  a  mineral 
expert,  and  imagines  we  're  both  deluded.  Never 
mind.  I  '11  buy  her  a  necklace  of  diamonds  as  big 
as  pigeons'  eggs,  and  she  shall  dress  in  silks  and 
velvets  all  the  rest  of  her  life.  She  shall  have 
everything  heart  can  wish  " 

But  here  his  reflections  suddenly  broke  off.  He 
knew  very  well  that  there  was  one  precious  posses 
sion,  the  dearest  treasure  of  Amy  Judith's  in  the 
past,  that  no  amount  of  money  could  either  restore 
or  compensate  her  for. 

Yet  it  was  not  in  boy  nature  to  resist  the  joyous 


226  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

influences  of  the  day  and  hour.  Rob  laughed  and 
chattered  and  sang,  as  happy  as  any  bird  that 
thrilled  its  spring  song  from  rugged  crag  or  leafy 
perch,  as  care-free  as  the  flowerets,  poised  on  slen 
der  stems,  which  nodded  greeting  as  they  passed. 
His  strong  young  limbs  bounded  exultingly  up  the 
steep  ascent,  making  frequent  excursions  from  the 
trail  in  pursuit  of  fleeing  squirrels  and  timorous 
rabbits,  or  to  spy  out  the  house  plans  of  some  nest 
ing  feathered  pair. 

His  companion  plodded  more  slowly  after.  Rob, 
looking  behind  him  at  a  bend  of  the  trail  where 
horse  and  rider  were  brought  into  picturesque  relief, 
sat  down  upon  a  rock  and  laughed  uproariously. 

"You  make  a  gay  old  picture,  you  two!"  he 
shouted.  "If  a  stranger  were  to  come  along,  he  'd 
put  you  down,  sure,  as  relics  of  Joaquin  Murietta's 
band!" 

Mr.  Paul  smiled  at  the  comparison,  which  was 
not  at  all  far-fetched.  In  his  worn  corduroys,  with 
cartridge-belt  around  his  waist,  his  slouched  hat 
with  tattered  crown  and  boots  with  flapping  tops, 
the  young  man  did  not  look  unlike  a  border  ruffian 
returning  from  some  raid,  to  the  success  of  which 
the  overladen  hampers  attested. 

"Count  yourself  in,  Rob!"  he  retaliated,  laugh 
ing. 

"Oh,  I  'm  the  chief  ruffian  and  cut-throat  of  the 
band!"  declared  Rob  shamelessly.  "This  gaping 
wound  in  my  boot  is  the  death-thrust  of  my  dying 
victim.  This  gory  cut  on  my  face,"  dramatically 
raising  his  hand  to  where  a  chaparral  thorn  had  left 


THE   TREASURE-SEEKERS  227 

an  ugly  scratch  on  his  cheek,  "was  received  in  a 
hand-to-hand  conflict  with  the  gallant  senor  whose 
beautiful  daughter  I  am  carrying  in  a  hamper  to 
my  mountain  lair." 

"And  if  my  ear  does  not  deceive  me,  the  enemy  is 
now  after  us  in  hot  pursuit,  heading  off  our  escape, 
and  intent  upon  rescuing  the  maiden  and  slaying 
her  ruthless  captor,"  cried  Mr.  Paul. 

Listening,  they  heard  the  soft  beat  of  hoofs  on 
the  trail  above  them.  A  moment  later,  a  solitary 
figure,  mounted  on  a  burro,  came  in  sight. 

"One  of  Fowler's  party,  I  vow!  "  exclaimed 
Hob.  "Now  he  '11  want  to  know  where  we  're  going 
and  what  we  're  up  to." 

The  traveler  proved  to  be  Sedgwick,  who  at  once 
confirmed  Rob's  apprehensions. 

"Going  over  to  camp?  "  he  cried  heartily. 
"Fowler  '11  be  delighted  to  see  you." 

"Not  so  far  this  time,  Mr.  Sedgwick,"  returned 
Mr.  Paul. 

"Hunting!  "  exclaimed  the  man,  in  surprise. 
"I  'm  afraid  I  can't  give  you  much  encouragement 
as  to  prospects.  Game  's  scarce  up  our  way.  The 
storm  's  been  tough  in  the  hills,  I  can  tell  you. 
Regular  cloudburst  in  a  canon  near  us,  and  it  rounded 
up  with  a  fall  of  snow  that  seems  to  have  scared  all 
the  game  out  of  the  country.  We  have  n't  seen  so 
much  as  a  rabbit  for  a  fortnight.  Even  the  cattle 
have  betaken  themselves  to  unknown  parts,  and  we 
can't  pick  up  so  much  as  a  maverick." 

Mr.  Paul  silently  held  up  his  fishing-rod. 

"Aha!"    cried   Sedgwick,  comprehending.     "A 


228  THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

little  in  advance  of  the  legal  season,  but  never  mind, 
I  '11  not  peach.  On  the  whole,  I  congratulate  you 
on  not  undertaking  to  make  Las  Cruces  Canon 
to-day.  It 's  a  deuce  of  a  trip.  Do  you  know  upon 
what  weighty  commission  I  'm  making  this  sixty- 
mile  journey,  risking  life  and  limb,  and  hazarding 
my  amiable  temper?" 

"Letters?  Telegrams?  Coffee  given  out ?"  ven 
tured  Eob. 

"Oh,  a  few  of  those  things  by  the  way;  thrown 
in  incidentally,  as  it  were,"  explained  the  young 
surveyor.  "But  they  are  not  my  main  errand. 
Our  chief  has  made  up  his  mind  that  he  can't  sur 
vive  any  longer  without  a  mince-pie.  I  can  get 
letters,  and  papers,  and  coffee,  and  a  few  incidentals, 
if  I  choose,  but  if  I  return  without  a  rich  mince- 
pie,  thick  with  plums,  my  doom  is  sealed.  I  '11  be 
bounced  from  the  service." 

"If  I  had  a  transitman  in  my  employ  who  wasn't 
capable  of  mustering  a  mince-pie  across  the  range 
if  I  wanted  it,  I  'd  fire  him,  too,"  returned  Mr. 
Paul  soberly.  "Well,  Rob,  it 's  slow  work  getting 
over  this  trail  any  day,  and  if  we  don't  buckle  down 
to  business,  that  stream  will  either  run  dry  or  the 
fish  will  all  swim  out  to  sea.  Adios,  Sedgwick !  " 

"Adios,  and  good  luck!"  called  out  Sedgwick, 
waving  his  hat. 

"You  switched  him  finely  off  the  track,"  observed 
Rob,  as  they  resumed  their  climb.  "Oh,  won't 
he  open  his  eyes  when  he  sees  us  coming  back  in 
style,  with  a  band  of  music,  and  pretty  yellow  metal 
enough  to  pave  the  whole  trail  and  to  spare!  " 


THE  TREASURE-SEEKERS  229 

"We  shall  have  to  dispense  with  our  coach  and 
four  until  we  get  a  better  road  built,"  returned  Mr. 
Paul.  "As  our  special  private  flying-ship  is  not  in 
order,  I  see  no  way  of  returning  but  by  the  very 
prosaic  route  we  are  now  taking." 

"Oh,  who  cares  about  style,  so  long  as  we  have 
such  glorious  prospects !  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Paul,  I  'm 
going  to  travel  and  learn  things,  and  do  things. 
One  can  have  anything  and  be  anything,  in  these 
days,  if  he  has  money  to  help  him  along.  I  '11  have 
the  finest  stables  in  America,  and  the  best  horses, 
and  the  nicest  home  for  Amy,  —  books  and  pictures 
till  you  can't  rest!  " 

The  boy's  exhilaration  of  spirit  was  so  infectious 
that  it  communicated  itself  to  Mr.  Paul.  He  found 
himself  entering  into  Rob's  extravagant  plans,  sug 
gesting  and  correcting  them  with  a  buoyant  spirit. 
So  absorbed  were  both  in  these  dreams  of  the  future 
that  they  crossed  the  summit  and  began  to  descend 
the  steep  slope,  where  the  trail  shot  down  in  a  series 
of  nearly  vertical  dashes  towards  the  river,  before 
they  realized  that  the  promised  land  was  actually 
in  sight. 

With  one  accord  they  suspended  speech,  and 
eagerly  looked  down  to  where  a  turbid  current, 
charged  with  wash  from  the  high  mountains,  hur 
ried  seaward. 

A  long,  strange  silence  fell  between  them.  At 
length  the  boy  wheeled  about,  turning  his  back 
upon  the  rippling  stream  and  smiling  valley  and 
burnished  heights,  and  the  two  wild  crags  to  which 
he  had  confided  the  guardianship  of  his  treasure. 


230  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

He  grasped  Mr.  Paul's  arm,  looking  into  the  young 
man's  face  in  agonized  appeal. 

"Mr.  Paul,  what  do  you  see?  " 

But  Mr.  Paul  was  looking  blankly  and  incredu 
lously  in  the  direction  Rob's  eyes  had  been  searching. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

WINGED  RICHES 

"WHAT  do  I  see?  I  see  nothing,  nothing  at 
all,"  replied  Mr.  Paul. 

"It  can't  be  gone!"  groaned  the  boy.  "That 
mountain  can't  have  been  swept  out  of  existence 
like  a  handful  of  sand." 

"I  'm  afraid  that  is  precisely  what  has  happened." 

Rob  collapsed  in  a  heap  on  the  ground.  His 
companion  watched  him  with  sympathy  blended  with 
secret  congratulation. 

The  red  hill,  for  twenty  years  a  landmark  in  that 
vicinity,  was  actually  gone,  vanished  off  the  face 
of  the  earth,  completely  swept  away  by  the  torrent 
that  had  poured  down  the  river-bed  when  all  the 
countless  little  rills  in  the  high  mountains  above 
had  been  transformed  to  boiling  floods,  and  had 
rushed  down  to  join  the  Santa  Ysabel,  seeking  an 
outlet  to  the  sea. 

The  river  was  quiet  now,  tranquilly  flowing  along 
its  broad  channel,  mirroring  the  clear  blue  sky  and 
wooded  heights  and  rocky  ledges  upon  its  placid 
bosom;  but  a  line  of  debris  high  on  its  banks,  and 
clusters  of  brush  far  above  their  heads  in  the  crotches 
of  tall  sycamores,  told  of  the  mighty  current  that 
had  hurled  itself  against  the  red  hill,  itself  no  doubt 
the  accumulation  of  milder  freshets  of  bygone  years, 


232  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

rending  and  undermining  and  Storming  against  it, 
until,  with  a  great  surge  and  plunge,  the  mountain 
had  tottered  and  gone  down,  to  be  dissolved  in  the 
torrent  and  swept  seaward  by  the  foaming  waters. 

So  stupendous  a  catastrophe  was  beyond  all  con 
ceived  forms  of  verbal  expression.  A  vast  fortune, 
wholly  beyond  their  power  to  compute,  carrying 
with  it  an  immeasurable  potentiality,  had  been 
stricken  from  their  hold  in  the  moment  of  attain 
ment. 

The  two  looked  blankly  into  each  other's  faces, 
then  Rob  began  to  laugh,  weakly,  helplessly,  fool 
ishly,  until  the  full  absurdity  of  the  situation  pos 
sessed  him,  and  he  ended  with  a  roar  of  merriment 
which  echoed  from  the  hills,  and  in  which  Mr. 
Paul  joined  him. 

"That's  the  true  American  humor,  that  laughs 
its  way  past  obstacles  and  trials  of  every  sort," 
said  the  older  man  at  length,  wiping  his  eyes.  "I 
have  n't  the  least  doubt  our  forefathers  laughed  and 
jested  and  cracked  jokes  amid  the  terrors  of  Valley 
Forge." 

"Valley  Forge  wasn't  a  circumstance  to  this," 
asserted  Rob  ruefully.  "Here  I  've  been  lying 
awake  nights,  trying  to  calculate  how  much  gold 
there  was  in  that  hill.  If  the  piece  I  panned  was 
a  fair  average  test,  it  would  have  run  about  five 
thousand  dollars  to  the  ton.  As  nearly  as  I  could 
make  out,  there  was  enough  of  it  to  pay  off  the 
national  debt  and  have  a  few  shekels  left  over. 
And  here  I  haven't  a  whole  pair  of  shoes  to  my 
name,  nor  means  to  get  them !  " 


WINGED   RICHES  233 

He  wound  up  this  dismal  statement  with  a 
chuckle. 

"It 's  barely  possible  that  the  red  hill  may  merely 
have  been  torn  apart  by  the  flood  and  floated  down 
stream.  In  that  case  fragments  of  considerable  size 
may  be  strewn  like  wreckage  along  the  river-bank." 

They  started  on  foot  down  the  river-bank,  fol 
lowing  the  stream  for  several  miles;  but  although 
the  banks  were  everywhere  liberally  lined  with 
brush  and  trees  deposited  by  the  flood,  and  now 
and  then  they  picked  up  crumbling  chunks  of  a  soft 
reddish  conglomerate,  they  could  find  no  trace  of 
the  mountain  of  gold,  which  appeared  to  have 
vanished  as  mysteriously  as  it  had  been  formed. 

Tired,  wet,  and  discouraged,  Rob  was  the  first  to 
call  a  halt. 

"It 's  no  use  looking  any  further,"  he  grumbled. 
"A  great  mass  of  earth  and  stone  like  that  isn't 
going  to  set  sail  for  the  sea  like  a  clipper-rigged 
yacht.  It 's  just  my  luck,  anyhow,  to  lose  it!  " 

"Look  at  it  from  another  point  of  view,  Rob," 
counseled  the  young  man  cheerfully.  "  You  ' ve  en 
joyed  a  delightful  dream,  such  as  it  falls  to  the  lot 
of  few  men  to  rejoice  in  throughout  their  prosaic 
lifetimes.  If  it  has  come  to  nothing,  bear  in  mind 
that  it  has  cost  you  nothing,  and  you  are  the  gainer 
by  a  very  jolly  memory." 

"It 's  queer  how  you  contrive  to  turn  everything 
into  either  fun  or  comfort,"  grumbled  the  boy.  "  "I 
don't  believe  you  've  ever  known  what  it  was  to 
have  a  trouble  or  grief,  Mr.  Paul." 

Could  the  lad  have  looked  beneath   the   man's 


234  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

smiling  mask,  or  known  with  what  a  heavy  heart 
he  had  set  out  upon  this  expedition ;  could  he  have 
learned  the  secret  of  the  black  curtain,  a  secret 
which  he  was  one  day  to  discover  with  horror  and 
renjorse,  how  bitterly  he  might  have  rued  this  care 
less  speech. 

Mr.  Paul  disregarded  the  remark. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  but  you  're  a  millionaire  still, 
Rob,"  he  said  shrewdly.  "I  doubt  if  you've  ever 
counted  up  your  assets." 

The  boy  eyed  him  indignantly.  He  was  in  no 
mood  for  further  jesting  on  this  sore  subject. 

"Oh,  more  than  a  mere  millionaire,  a  multi 
millionaire,"  the  man  went  on  seriously.  "First, 
there  's  your  youth  and  strength  and  health.  Worth 
a  cool  hundred  thousand  apiece  at  the  lowest  quota 
tions.  Then  you  have  intelligence,  a  decent  practi 
cal  education,  I  take  it,  five  keen  Censes,  an  unim 
paired  digestion,  and  a  glorious  appetite  for  the 
supper  we  're  going  to  have  in  a  jiffy.  That  last 
item  alone,  more  than  one  of  the  nabobs  of  the 
world  would  pay  a  full  million  to  acquire,  Rob." 

This  last  suggestion  went  home  to  the  boy,  who 
became  conscious  of  a  hunger  gnawing  at  his  vitals 
which  all  the  gold  in  the  world  could  not  at  that 
moment  have  assuaged.  It  was  a  relief  to  be  con 
ceded  the  privilege  of  frying  bacon  over  the  blazing 
camp-fire  that  was  kindled,  and  when  Mr.  Paul, 
casting  a  line,  pulled  several  speckled  beauties  from 
the  stream,  the  two  enjoyed  a  feast  which  many 
men,  rich  in  bonds  and  bank-stock,  would  have 
given  half  their  fortune  to  have  relished. 


WINGED   RICHES  235 

"Now,  Rob,  we'll  lay  plans,  for  dessert,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Paul  cheerily,  when  both  had  eaten 
their  fill. 

"I  know  —  that  note!  It's  been  hanging  over 
me  like  a  nightmare  all  day.  But  what  can  I  do, 
Mr.  Paul?  -I  've  no  standing,  no  money,  no  friends. 
If  I  were  to  get  the  best  kind  of  a  place,  and  the 
best  wages,  I  could  n't  begin  to  earn  more  than  a 
third  of  the  amount  during  the  next  year." 

"Be  your  own  employer,  Rob." 

The  boy  was  slow  to  comprehend. 

"We  have  here,  between  us,  and  waiving  the 
question  of  title  for  the  present,"  Mr.  Paul  went 
on,  "three  hundred  and  twenty  acres.  Forty  or 
fifty  of  these  are  already  cleared  for  cultivation. 
We  two,  working  faithfully,  ought  to  be  able  to 
clear  twenty  or  thirty  more  before  the  season  for 
spring  planting  has  gone  by.  Where  the  wood  is 
heaviest,  we  might  bring  men  in  to  cut  it  on  shares 
and  sell  it  for  fuel.  Then  by  judicious  planting, 
with  a  fair  season,  we  ought  to  get  in  a  round  sum." 

"I  'm  no  farmer,"  said  Rob  frankly. 

"Nor  I!  "  declared  Mr.  Paul,  with  equal  candor. 
"But  there's  no  trick  about  putting  seed  in  the 
ground  and  gathering  crops.  Of  course  we  shall 
have  to  get  a  span  of  good  work-horses,  and  a  gang 
plough,  and  other  implements,  as  well  as  seed." 

"Amy  told  me  yesterday  she  had  less  than  forty 
dollars  left  in  bank,"  said  Rob  dejectedly. 

"My  own  balance  isn't  very  large,  but  between 
that  and  my  credit  I  think  we  can  pull  through. 
Aside  from  what  we  should  make  by  selling  wood 


236  THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

and  raising  crops,  there  is  my  tunnel  as  an  addi 
tional  resource.  It  has  n't  been  a  brilliant  success, 
but  by  putting  in  all  our  spare  time  there,  we  ought 
to  develop  more  water,  and  I  've  been  offered  a 
thousand  dollars  a  miner's  inch  for  everything  I 
will  sell.  Oh,  we  '11  pull  out  somehow,  never  fear!  " 

"But  it  isn't  fair  to  draw  you  into  the  thing  this 
way,  Mr.  Paul.  It  isn't  your  loss  or  your  dis 
grace." 

The  young  man  looked  gravely  at  the  boy,  and 
Rob  remembered  his  speech  as  they  started  out  that 
morning.  But  all  Mr.  Paul  said  was :  — 

"  We  can  adjust  all  that  by  and  by,  Rob.  When 
we  get  this  thing  settled  and  out  of  the  way,  it  will 
be  time  enough  to  begin  to  balance  our  mutual 
account." 

The  journey  homeward  was  not  as  dreary  as  might 
have  been  imagined.  In  the  midst  of  the  heavy 
problems  that  beset  them,  and  the  stern  tasks  that 
lay  before  them,  the  comicality  of  the  complete 
collapse  of  their  dreams  was  constantly  occurring 
to  the  two,  upsetting  their  gravity  and  sending 
them  into  fresh  paroxysms  of  merriment.  Only  at 
the  foot  of  the  trail,  as  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
cottage  in  the  tree,  did  Rob  for  a  moment  draw 
back. 

"It's  no  use,  Mr.  Paul,  I  can't  face  her.  It's 
only  a  day  since  I  started  over  the  sierra  to  bring 
back  a  fortune.  And  now  I  've  only  a  few  speckled 
trout." 

"Your  sister  is  very  fond  of  trout!"  said  Mr. 
Paul  conservatively. 


WINGED  RICHES  237 

"Now  you  're  laughing  at  nie  again.  I  tell  you 
I  'd  rather  be  shot  than  tell  her  what 's  happened. 
It  '11  be  an  awful  shock,  Mr.  Paul.  Oh,  I  wish 
I  'd  never  told  her,  never  started  her  hoping  and 
expecting,  only  to  be  disappointed." 

"Kob,  you're  bringing  back  yourself.  I  think 
that 's  a  little  better  than  your  sister  expected." 

Mr.  Paul  had  neither  time  nor  occasion  to  explain 
this  somewhat  obscure  remark,  for  in  another  in 
stant  there  was  a  flutter  of  light  garments  along  the 
path,  and  Amy  Judith  came  in  sight.  She  scarcely 
seemed  to  see  Mr.  Paul,  acknowledging  his  presence 
with  a  little  nod. 

"What  has  happened,  Rob?"  she  asked  breath 
lessly.  "Are  you  sick?  Have  you  hurt  yourself? 
I  saw  you  coming  down  the  mountain  side.  You 
were  not  to  be  back  for  at  least  a  week." 

At  the  sight  of  her  distress  a  manly  purpose  re 
placed  the  weak,  indecisive  look  on  the  boy's  hand 
some  face.  He  put  his  arm  around  the  girl's  waist 
and  met  her  gaze  unflinchingly. 

"Yes,  Amy,  something  has  happened.  Some 
thing  awful.  Sit  down  and  I  '11  tell  you  all  about 
it." 

Wonderingly  she  obeyed  him  and  seated  herself 
beside  the  trail,  awaiting  the  sorrowful  tidings  that 
his  face  and  voice  premised. 

"  Can  you  nerve  yourself  for  a  terrible  disappoint 
ment?  " 

"Tell  me,  Rob.    I'm  no  baby.    Tell  me  at  once !" 

"  Sister,  my  mountain  of  gold  is  all  gone.  Gone, 
to  the  last  crumb.  Washed  downstream  by  last 
week's  freshet." 


238  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"Thank  Heaven!"  cried  Amy,  in  a  voice  that 
betokened  great  relief. 

"Amy!     Amy  Judith!" 

"I  didn't  want  it  in  the  least,  Rob.  I  'd  much 
rather  do  without  it,"  she  insisted  blithely. 

"Well,  I  must  say  this  is  a  queer  deal!  "  growled 
Rob,  much  aggrieved.  "That 's  all  you  care  for  a 
fellow  or  a  fellow's  plans  for  you.  I  might  have 
known  it  would  turn  out  so.  Trust  a  woman  to 
have  no  sympathy  for  a  fellow  and  to  gloat  over 
the  downfall  of  his  hopes!  " 

"Robert  Judith,"  said  the  girl,  with  great  dignity 
and  impressiveness,  "I  don't  believe  it 's  a  good 
thing  for  any  boy  to  have  a  fortune  that  he  does  n't 
earn.  I  'd  be  gladder  and  prouder  to  share  the 
smallest  sum  made  by  your  own  hands'  labor  than 
to  live  in  a  palace  with  money  that  came  without 
effort.  The  day  '11  come,  Rob,  when  you  '11  see  it 
as  I  do.  Let  it  be  enough  now  that  I  want  you 
for  yourself,  Rob." 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE   INTERVIEWER   INTERVIEWED 

MR.  PAUL  was  guiding  the  plough  one  day,  and 
Eob,  following  after,  was  dropping  nicely  cut  potato 
eyes  in  the  furrow,  when  this  very  prosaic  labor 
met  with  an  unexpected  interruption.  Across  the 
moist  field,  daintily  picking  his  way,  came  a  slen 
der  young  cyclist,  who  had  left  his  wheel  propped 
against  a  tree  along  the  trail. 

"Is  Mr.  Paul  here?"  he  called  out  when  still 
quite  a  distance  away,  evidently  disinclined  to  soil 
his  new  russet  leather  gaiters  unless  reassured  as  to 
the  object  of  his  search. 

"That's  supposed  to  be  my  name.  Whoa,  Dob 
bin!  What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir?"  returned  Mr. 
Paul. 

"Mr.  Paul,  I  'm  really  delighted  to  find  you," 
declared  the  new-comer,  with  unction.  "You  see 
we  're  short  on  a  feature  story  for  our  Sunday  edi 
tion,  and  I  don't  know  what  I  'd  have  done  if  I 
hadn't  chanced  on  you." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  grasp  your  meaning. 
Couldn't  you  be  a  little  more  explicit?"  said  Mr. 
Paul,  in  a  somewhat  chill  tone,  holding  fast  to  the 
lines  while  he  viewed  the  visitor  with  a  frown. 

"Oh,  pardon  me.  I  supposed  you  would  recog 
nize  me.  I  flatter  myself  there  are  not  many  people 


240  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

in  this  valley  who  don't  know  me,"  drawing  out  a 
card  and  presenting  it  with  a  flourish.  "There's 
my  name  and  calling,  sir." 

With  an  amused  smile  Mr.  Paul  examined  the 
card,  which  was  embellished  with  all  the  flourishes 
that  adorn  the  country  printer's  art. 


MR.  ARTHUR  BLODGETT, 


ifjj  anfc  Tfceefety  (Comet. 


"Ah!     You  're  a  newspaper  man,  Mr.  Blodgett." 

"An  editor  and  the  proprietor  of  a  daily  journal, 
sir,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Blodgett  haughtily,  resent 
ing  the  commonplace  appellation. 

"Oh!  A  sort  of  journalist-at-large !  "  Mr.  Paul 
corrected  himself. 

"If  you  please  to  call  it  so,  sir!"  smiled  Mr. 
Blodgett,  propitiated  by  this  more  sounding  title. 

"And  you  want  me  to  subscribe  —  advertise  — 
write  a  poem,  or  what,  for  your  paper,  — the  'Daily 
Comet'?" 

"The  soliciting  of  subscriptions  and  advertise 
ments  is  attended  to  by  our  business  staff,"  ex 
plained  the  young  man  airily.  "As  for  our  poetry, 
sir,  the  'Comet '  is  very  particular,  very  particular 
indeed,  about  the  quality  of  the  verse  it  admits  to 


THE  INTERVIEWER  INTERVIEWED         241 

its  columns.  However,  if  you  have  a  poem  you 
would  like  to  submit  to  the  'Comet,'  I  will  see  that 
it  is  read  and  passed  upon  impartially,  and  with  the 
most  discriminating  literary  taste." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Blodgett,  when  I  finish  my  new 
poem  on  Spring,  I  '11  call  round.  But  you  see  just 
now  I  'm  rather  busy  at  the  plough,  and  my  literary 
efforts  are,  so  to  speak,  going  by  default,"  quoth 
Mr.  Paul.  "Is  there  anything  else  you  would  like? 
How  are  you  off  for  editorials  ?  I  might  give  you 
something  to-day  on  Potato  Culture,  and  a  few 
weeks  from  now  I  'm  likely  to  have  a  special  inspi 
ration  on  the  subject  of  Cutworms." 

"The  editorials  of  the  'Comet '  are  always  written 
by  the  staff,  and  they  are  confined  strictly  to  politi 
cal  matters,  Mr.  Paul." 

"And  I  'm  no  politician,  so  you  see  I  could  be 
of  no  use  to  you  in  that  line.  As  my  Spring  poem 
isn't  ready,  and  I'm  no  authority  at  all  on  fash 
ions,  and  you  won't  have  my  sentiments  on  agricul 
tural  or  entomological  themes,  I  don't  see  how  I  'm 
going  to  help  out  your  Sunday  issue." 

"It  was  a  feature  story  I  spoke  of"  — 

"Oh,  yes,  a  feature  story.  And  a  Sunday  edi 
tion  without  a  feature  story,  in  these  days,  is  like 
a  plough  without  a  share." 

"If  you  'd  just  permit  me  to  get  in  a  word  edge 
ways,  Mr.  Paul!" 

"Why,  certainly,  Mr.  Blodgett!"  returned  Mr. 
Paul  amiably.  "Let 's  see.  It 's  a  feature  you  're 
after.  Why  don't  you  have  a  write-up  of  the  pretty 
girls  of  the  valley.  That  would  be  tremendously 


242  THE  BLACK   CURTAIN 

popular,  as  well  as  mildly  sensational.  Or  expati 
ate  upon  the  sanitary  advantages  and  picturesque 
features  of  the  Vernal  Hills.  A  newspaper  can 
never  say  too  much  about  the  climate  and  advan 
tages  of  the  locality  where  it  is  published  and  upon 
which  it  must  depend  for  support." 

"Mr.  Paul,  I  want  you  to  furnish  the  feature." 

"  Wait  until  my  spring  planting 's  done,  Mr. 
Blodgett,  I  beg  of  you." 

"But  it  won't  take  any  time.  You  have  a  cur 
tain.  A  black  curtain  ?" 

Mr.  Paul  could  not  deny  the  impeachment. 

"About  which  there  are  really  remarkable  stories 
in  circulation." 

"I  dare  say." 

"Jim  Jones  has  told  me  about  it." 

Jim  Jones  was  a  roving  character,  hunter  and 
naturalist  in  the  mountains,  and  loafer  and  gambler 
in  town,  who  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  possessing 
the  most  vivid  imagination  in  the  community. 

"Ah!     And  what  does  Jones  say ?" 

"He  slept,  or  rather  tried  to  sleep,  in  the  room 
with  it  one  night,  and  he  declares  it 's  haunted.  He 
says  that  while  he  lay  watching  it  by  the  firelight, 
he  saw  a  beautiful  maiden  emerge  from  it,  weeping 
and  wailing.  Following  her  there  came  an  ugly 
old  savage,  with  his  war-paint  on  and  three  feathers 
in  his  hair.  And  the  girl  crouched  on  the  floor, 
and  the  Indian  raised  his  tomahawk,  and  the  girl 
gave  a  screech,  and  Jim  Jones  jumped  to  his  feet, 
intending  to  rescue  the  maiden,  when  the  savage 
and  the  girl  rushed  behind  the  curtain." 


THE  INTERVIEWER   INTERVIEWED         243 

"That  's  very  hackneyed  and  threadbare.  I 
thought  Jones  had  more  originality.  I  could  give 
you  a  better  story  myself." 

"If  you  only  will!  "  Blodgett  pulled  out  a  bulky 
note-book.  "  Would  you  mind  if  I  sit  down  on  the 
plough,  Mr.  Paul?" 

"Not  at  all.  Make  yourself  perfectly  at  home. 
You  can  hold  the  lines,  if  you  want  to." 

"I  don't  see  how  I  could  do  that  and  manage  my 
pencil." 

"Never  mind.  Only,  if  the  horses  should  take 
a  fancy  to  start,  I  want  it  understood  I  can't  be 
held  accountable  for  the  consequences.  We  're 
planting  potatoes,  not  journalists,  in  this  furrow." 

The  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  "  Comet "  was 
good  enough  to  laugh  at  this  pleasantry. 

"Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  begin,  Mr.  Paul?" 

"But  I  'm  not  acquainted  with  either  the  political 
complexion  of  the  '  Comet '  nor  its  ethical  postulates, 
Mr.  Blodgett.  I  always  like  to  oblige  the  press, 
but  one  wants  to  see  everything  in  a  newspaper 
homogeneous.  How  can  I  tell  whether  the  story  I 
relate  will  be  in  harmony  with  your  paper's  pre 
vious  attitude  on  the  great  social  questions  of  the 
hour?" 

"I  assure  you,  Mr.  Paul,  that  has  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  Give  me  just  a  nice,  readable  "  — 

"And  then  what  kind  of  a  story  do  you  want?  " 
persisted  Mr.  Paul. 

"Really,  sir,  you  own  the  curtain,  and  you  ought 
to  know  "  — 

"But  I  don't.     I  assure  you,   on  my  honor,  I 


244  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

haven't  the  faintest  idea.  Would  you  prefer  to 
have  it  located  in  this  country  or  in  India?  Now 
that  Theosophy  is  the  rage  among  educated  people, 
to  which  class  I  do  not  doubt  that  all  the  readers  of 
the  'Comet'  belong"  — 

"I  don't  care  —  a  rap  about  Theosophy  or  India! 
It 's  the  curtain  itself,  the  story  of  the  curtain  "  — 

"And  would  you  prefer  tragedy,  comedy,  or  ro 
mance?  You  see,  Mr.  Blodgett,  you  know  the 
temper  of  the  'Comet's  '  readers.  Not  being  a  news 
paper  man  myself,  —  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Blodg 
ett,  I  should  say  not  being  an  editor  and  proprietor, 
but  only  a  'prentice  hand,  —  I  'd  like  the  benefit  of 
your  advice  before  I  begin  to  reel  off  my  tale." 

"  I  want  the  truth,  just  the  plain  truth,  Mr. 
Paul.  That  oughtn't  to  be  so  very  difficult." 

"Young  man,  there's  nothing  more  difficult  or 
complex  than  the  truth,"  returned  his  tormentor 
solemnly.  "A  piece  of  fiction,  of  more  or  less  ar 
tistic  merit,  the  merest  tyro  can  evolve.  But  when 
it  comes  to  dressing  out  the  naked  truth  in  readable 
shape,  without  altering  a  feature  or  an  outline,  it 's 
a  stupendous  task.  Seriously,  I  'd  advise  you 
against  undertaking  it.  Better  think  it  over.  I  '11 
finish  this  furrow,  and  if  you  have  a  mind  to  join 
us  at  luncheon,  which  we  shall  take  under  that 
tree,"  indicating  an  oak  at  a  discouraging  distance 
over  the  freshly  ploughed  field,  "  I  '11  consider  your 
request." 

Mr.  Blodgett,  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  "  Daily 
and  Weekly  Comet,"  arose  from  his  not  over  com 
fortable  seat,  Mr.  Paul  whistled  to  his  horses,  and 


THE   INTERVIEWER  INTERVIEWED         245 

the  animals,  refreshed  by  their  short  rest,  moved 
briskly  forward,  pulling  the  plough  after  .them.  At 
the  end  of  the  field  he  turned  and  looked  back. 

The  ploughed  space  was  un tenanted.  Through 
the  trees  on  the  mesa  below  there  appeared  a  flash 
of  rapidly  revolving  wheels. 

Mr.  Blodgett  had  beaten  a  retreat.  Whether 
this  act  was  due  to  consideration  for  the  new  russet 
leathers,  or  whether  he  resented  Mr.  'Paul's  novel 
and  wholly  original  method  of  being  interviewed, 
the  two  he  left  behind  were  at  a  loss  to  decide. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

CALAMITY 

THAT  year  the  Vernal  Hills  were  the  scene  of 
one  of  those  gallant  struggles  against  heavy  odds 
of  which  the  world  makes  little  account,  and  which 
yet  develop  the  heroes  of  the  earth.  Day  after  day 
Rob,  unused  to  severe  physical  exertion,  rose  with 
the  dawn  and  labored  for  long,  weary  hours,  until 
the  setting  sun  brought  a  grateful  relief  to  his  ach 
ing  limbs.  Day  after  day  a  man  of  gentle  breeding 
made  willing  sacrifice  of  his  time  and  strength, 
joining  in  the  humblest  toil,  to  lend  aid  and  com 
panionship  to  the  boy  so  sorely  worsted  in  the 
world's  conflict,  who  was  battling  his  way  back  to 
honor  and  self-respect.  All  the  while  a  delicate 
woman  loyally  shared  their  burdens  and  privations, 
bringing  cheer  and  grace  into  their  homely  lives. 

"We  shall  just  about  pull  out,  Rob,"  said  Mr. 
Paul  in  late  July,  as  they  sat  about  their  evening 
meal.  Amy  Judith  had  insisted  that  during  this 
season  of  mutual  endeavor  he  should  resign  the  cares 
of  his  bachelor  household  and  share  their  own  cosy 
meals. 

The  most  difficult  relation  in  the  world  for  a 
man  and  woman  to  sustain  is  that  of  friendly,  daily 
intercourse,  when  on  either  side  there  is  a  con 
sciousness  that  the  depths  of  existence  have  been 


CALAMITY  247 

stirred  by  the  other's  touch.  Although  this  man 
and  woman  each  possessed  a  gentility  too  fine  and 
true  to  permit  the  remembrance  of  this  unspoken 
drama  to  embarrass  their  association,  there  were 
unguarded  moments  when  a  thoughtless  speech  or 
unbidden  thought  thrilled  the  heart  of  one  or  caused 
sharp  pain  to  the  other.  The  presence  of  Rob, 
with  a  boy's  blunt  perceptions  and  youth's  impet 
uous  interests,  went  far  to  relieve  the  awkwardness 
of  their  intercourse,  and  they  were  accustomed  to 
direct  conversation  in  the  channels  which  most  in 
terested  him. 

"  I  was  afraid  —  you  know  that  wretched  field  of 
beans,  and  the  time  and  money  it  cost!  "  said  Rob. 
Eight  months  of  stern  effort  had  wrought  a  notable 
change  in  the  boy.  His  voice  had  become  deep 
and  manly,  and  there  was  a  steadfastness  in  his  eye 
that  told  of  a  spirit  grown  strong  in  adversity. 

"That  shows  the  beauty  of  always  planning  to 
have  a  margin,"  declared  Mr.  Paul.  "With  the 
money  already  collected  on  the  wood  and  water 
account,  and  the  balance  we  shall  have  on  the  hay 
when  it  is  delivered  to  Barry,  and  the  hundred  or 
so  dollars  we  ought  to  be  able  to  clear  on  the  corn, 
we  shall  fall  less  than  a  thousand  dollars  short  on 
the  note.  By  putting  more  men  to  work  this  fall 
on  the  oak  wood  in  the  west  gulch  and  ourselves 
joining  them  on  the  hauling,  we  ought  to  be  able 
to  make  up  the  rest  by  spring." 

"Another  good  year  would  clear  up  all  our  local 
bills  and  put  us  ahead,"  said  Rob,  with  animation. 

"Another  year  you  shall  not  work  as  hard,  if  I 


248  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

can  prevent  it,"  cried  Amy  impulsively.  "It  may 
not  hurt  you,  Rob,  but  it  is  wearing  out  Mr.  Paul." 

She  broke  off  short,  avoiding  the  look  that  her 
sympathetic  speech  had  kindled  in  his  face,  but 
although  he  put  in  a  cheerful  disclaimer,  as  they 
rose  from  the  table  she  did  not  fail  to  note  his  stiff 
and  weary  movements,  telling  of  sore  exhaustion 
and  stiffened  muscles.  Rob,  on  the  other  hand, 
moved  about  as  easily  as  any  young  athlete  who  had 
just  pulled  his  oar  with  a  college  crew. 

"The  only  outstanding  account  that  troubles 
me  is  our  grocery  bill,"  remarked  Mr.  Paul.  "I 
dislike  to  owe  a  grocer.  There  's  something  that 
savors  of  disrepute  in  it." 

"Would  you  like  to  see  the  account?  "  asked  Amy. 

While  both  men  puzzled  over  her  laughing  look, 
she  went  to  her  desk,  and  taking  out  a  homely  little 
brown  fcook,  laid  it  in  Mr.  Paul's  hand  and  stood 
looking  down  upon  him,  a  dainty  vision  of  grace 
and  womanly  sweetness  in  her  simple  lawn  gown 
and  with  a  single  Castilian  rose  in  her  bosom.  Mr. 
Paul's  tired  eyes  lingered  upon  her  face,  where  the 
joy  of  an  innocent  mystery  for  the  moment  lent 
brilliancy  to  her  delicate  features. 

"Look  in  the  book!  "  she  commanded. 

He  did  as  he  was  bid.  Page  after  page  was  filled 
with  humdrum  entries  of  various  food-stuffs,  sugar, 
flour,  coffee,  tea,  rice,  —  all  of  the  items  small. 
Even  a  cursory  glance  showed  their  character. 

"It  is  a  very  economical  account.  The  total 
is  n't  anything  like  what  I  expected.  But  what  is 
this?  The  account  is  balanced." 


CALAMITY  249 

"Turn  to  the  back!  "  said  the  girl. 

He  found  a  series  of  credits.  "Berries"  and 
"eggs"  were  the  most  frequent  items,  although  now 
and  then  there  was  an  entry  showing  that  surplus 
garden-stuff  had  been  marketed  to  advantage. 

"Bravely  done,  Miss  Amy!"  he  said  simply. 
"But  I  know  of  a  third  member  of  this  firm  who 
shall  not  work  as  hard  another  year." 

She  flushed,  and  busied  herself  about  the  dishes, 
a  task  in  which  both  men  hastened  to  join  her. 

"It's  a  burning  shame,  Amy!  If  my  mountain 
of  gold  had  n't  gone  up  —  or  rather  down  —  the 
flume,  you  'd  have  never  known  what  it  was  to  have 
another  duty  or  care." 

"  Better  to  wear  out  than  rust  out,  Rob.  Hon 
estly,  am  I  not  twice  the  woman  I  was  when  I  left 
the  city  three  years  ago? " 

She  stood  up,  straight  and  lithe,  before  him,  her 
graceful  figure  showing  rounded  outlines  through 
her  thin  summer  dress,  a  healthy  glow  in  her  cheek, 
but  best  of  all  a  tranquil  spirit  and  sweet  patience 
displacing  the  olden  unrest. 

"I  don't  know  about  the  stature,  Amy.  In  all 
other  ways,  yes,"  said  her  brother,  beginning  in  good- 
natured  sarcasm,  but  ending  seriously,  as  he  realized 
the  picture  of  perfect  and  gracious  womanhood  that 
she  presented. 

"I  have  health,  congenial  occupation,  and  happi 
ness;  perfect  happiness,"  she  added  firmly,  meet 
ing  Mr.  Paul's  eye. 

They  went  out  that  night  to  look  upon  the  splen 
did  spectacle  presented  by  the  fires  that  raged  along 


250         .  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

the  mountains,  a  common  incident  of  summer  in  the 
Vernal  Hills,  but  presenting,  this  season,  a  scene 
of  more  than  usual  magnificence.  The  tallest  peaks 
were  literally  garlanded  with  flame,  and  now  and 
then -a  pine-tree,  standing  like  a  lone  sentinel  upon 
some  rocky  outpost  with  gaunt  arms  outstretched, 
robed  itself  in  a  garment  of  flame  and  sent  a  black 
volume  of  smoke  into  the  blue  firmament,  blotting 
out  the  glittering  stars. 

"There  is  something  frightful  in  the  resistless 
sweep  of  these  fires,"  said  Amy,  shivering  with 
sudden  fright  in  the  tropical  atmosphere,  as  she 
watched  the  work  of  the  flames  and  listened  to  their 
distant  roar.  "One  could  almost  believe  the  fire- 
fiend  a  living  creature,  pouncing  with  relentless  fury 
upon  his  victims.  He  has  been  lying  still  and  hid 
den  in  that  gulch  all  da'y,  and  now  see  how  he  has 
suddenly  sprung  upon  his  victim,  —  that  pretty  oak 
grove  that  we  have  often  noted  near  the  summit. 
You  can  almost  hear  the  trees  groan  and  struggle 
in  his  clutch.  I  hope  he  won't  get  down  here." 

"Not  the  slightest  danger  in  the  world,"  Mr. 
Paul  reassured  her.  "At  this  season  of  the  y§ar 
all  the  winds  are  trades,  blowing  straight  from  the 
sea.  Those  steep  gulches  act  like  so  many  chim 
neys,  and  the  range  of  such  fires  is  always  upward." 

It  was  an  east  wind,  a  little,  hot,  desert  breeze, 
that  one  day  a  week  later  grew  tired  of  playing 
with  the  scorched  sands  of  the  Mojave  desert,  and 
determined  to  bathe  its  tired  wings  in  the  cool  spray 
of  the  great  Pacific.  So  with  many  graceful  sallies 
and  retreats,  it  darted  up  the  wooded  slopes  of  the 


It  CALAMITY  251 

mother  mountains,  that  stately  sierra  that  frowns' 
darkly  over  those  barren  wastes,  and  laughingly 
peered  over  its  fretted  summit.  The  mountain  val 
leys  lay  sweltering  in  the  heat  of  the  August  sun, 
with  here  and  there  a  tiny  ranch,  tucked  in  a  nook 
of  the  hills,  where  lonely  men  smoked  and  drank, 
read  or  played  cards,  during  the  long,  'hot  hours  of 
the  day,  sometimes  sallying  forth  at  nightfall  to  look 
after  their  herds.  With  a  glad  surge  and  flutter, 
the  little  desert  wind  flung  itself  across  this  desolate 
waste,  poising  with  glad,  outstretched  wings  on  the 
crest  of  the  Vernal  Hills,  and  quaffing  deep  draughts 
of  the  cool  air  that  floated  up  from  the  peaceful 
blue  waters  spread  out  below.  Its  enemy,  the  trade 
wind,  was  sleeping,  and  the  visitor  grew  strong  and 
mirthful  as  he  realized  that  in  all  that  wide  domain 
he  might  enjoy  full  sway.  Near  at  hand  the  moun 
tain  sides  and  gulches  were  curiously  blackened, 
and  all  the  ground  was  covered  with  a  fine  dust  as 
gray  as  the  sands  of  the  desert.  He  breathed  gently 
upon  this  gray  coating,  and  the  tiny  atoms  rose  in 
the  air,  giving  a  glimpse  of  something  bright  and 
glowing  beneath.  He  blew  vigorously,  and  bright 
sparks  rose,  and  little  curling  flames  began  to  play, 
and  fiery  cinders  flew.  These  the  roysterer  gath 
ered  eagerly  in  his  embrace,  hurrying  them  sea 
ward,  strewing  them  through  the  dry  underbrush 
in  the  green  canons  below,  where  new  sparks  rose 
and  new  flames  were  kindled,  joining  to  form  a  furi 
ous,  frolicking  band,  a  flaming  battalion  sweeping 
down  upon  the  little  ranch  homes  nestling  in  the 
coverts  of  the  hills,  and  advancing  upon  the  fruitful 
orchards  of  the  valley. 


252  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN      JL 

Amy  Judith  was  busily  engaged  that  morning  in 
training  a  willful  climbing-rose  upon  a  trellis  which 
it  had  obstinately  refused  to  follow.  Her  brother 
and  Mr.  Paul  were  gathering  corn  in  a  distant  field, 
and  she  had  gone  out  with  hammer  and  tacks  to 
bind  the  refractory  shoots  in  place.  So  deeply 
absorbed  in  her  work  was  she  that  she  only  idly 
wondered  when  a  breath  of  air  hot  as  a  blast  from 
a  fiery  furnace  touched  her  cheek.  The  mountain 
fires  had  subsided  and  gradually  died  out  days 
before,  and  now  the  hot  September  weather  was 
at  hand.  A  few  weeks  more  and  the  season's  rush 
and  strain  would  be  over,  and  Rob,  with  old  scores 
cleared  away  and  a  redeemed  name,  would  have 
before  him  an  open  path  to  a  noble  manhood. 

Amy's  heart  swelled  with  joy  and  thankfulness. 
To  be  secure,  safe  and  secure  once  more,  was  all 
she,  who  had  once  expected  so  much,  now  asked  of 
life.  Then  all  at  once  she  heard  a  voice  crying  out 
her  name,  in  agonized  appeal. 

"Oh,  what  is  the  matter?"  she  exclaimed,  for 
Mr.  Paul  was  running  towards  her,  an  expression 
of  fright  and  horror  on  his  face. 

"The  fire!"  he  shouted.  "Can't  you  see  it  is 
upon  us?" 

Amy  looked  to  the  west,  where  a  line  of  flame  and 
smoke  followed  the  gulch  which  half  encircled  the 
bit  of  mesa  on  which  the  cottage  stood.  She  turned 
to  the  east.  Black  billows  of  smoke,  rising  from 
the  thick  growth  of  oaks  and  chaparral,  which  ex 
tended  from  the  foothills  far  down  into  the  valley, 
told  that  all  escape  was  cut  off  in  that  direction. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

A  COWARD   MEETS   HIS   DESERTS 

"THERE'S  only  one  place  that  offers  a  possible 
chance  for  safety.  My  cabin!"  cried  Mr.  Paul. 
"Yours  is  sure  to  go.  Don't  you  see,  it's  coming 
straight  this  way,  —  a  tempest  of  flame !  There 
isn't  a  chance  of  reaching  the  valley.  For  God's 
sake,  come!  Don't  lose  a  moment!  " 

"Where  is  Rob?  "  asked  Amy. 

"Gone  with  the  wood-cutters  to  fight  it.  They 
are  taking  every  possible  precaution,  —  wet  cloths 
over  their  mouths,  their  clothes  drenched.  They 
soaked  their  felt  hats  in  water.  The  men  are  used 
to  it." 

Amy  Judith  ran  up  into  her  little  home,  snatched 
up  a  few  needful  articles,  and  thrust  into  her  breast 
a  single  memento  of  her  dead  mother,  then,  with 
a  sigh  and  a  quick  backward  glance,  said  her  last 
farewell  to  the  small  cottage  about  whose  brief  ex 
istence  so  many  dear  memories  clustered,  and  which 
hung,  in  its  leafy  bower,  all  unconscious  of  its 
hastening  doom. 

Fast  as  her  light  feet  flew  down  the  shadowed 
path  that  led  to  Mr.  Paul's  cabin,  she  could  with 
difficulty  keep  pace  with  the  man  by  her  side,  who 
held  fast  to  her  hand,  half  leading,  half  dragging 
her  down  the  steep  descent.  The  air  was  full  of 


254  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

flying  cinders,  and  charred  leaves,  mere  floating 
flakes  of  ash,  fell  in  a  shower  about  them.  The 
smoke  was  suffocating,  and  little  curling  tongues  of 
heat  seemed  to  play  about  their  faces. 

"Quick!     There  is  a  short  cut  through  here!  " 

He  helped  her  across  the  dry  and  stony  bed  of 
Hidden  Creek,  and  through  a  matted  undergrowth 
that  seemed  to  fade  and  shrivel  in  the  scorching 
atmosphere  even  as  they  passed.  Once  Amy  was 
about  to  remonstrate  with  her  guide  for  the  needless 
impetus  of  this  flight,  when  the  fire  was  still  in 
another  gulch  and  a  full  half  mile  away,  but  she 
reflected,  in  time,  that  every  moment  of  delay  was 
keeping  him  from  lending  aid  to  others  who  might 
be  in  greater  need  of  succor.  On  the  threshold  of 
the  cabin  she  halted,  pale,  but  smiling  bravely. 

"Don't  come  any  further  with  me,  Mr.  Paul.  I 
am  as  safe  now  as  you  can  make  me." 

"Hurry  into  the  house.     Don't  stop!  "  he  urged. 

"But  I  am  keeping  you  needlessly.  You  have 
done  all  you  can  for  me,"  she  cheerfully  insisted. 
"I  would  not  hold  you  back  for  the  world.  Of 
course  I  shall  be  a  little  afraid  until  I  know  that 
all  danger  is  past,  but  I  should  be  just  as  timid  if 
you  were  here.  Go.  Do  go!  " 

"There  is  a  good  clearing  around  the  cabin.  It 
cannot  overtake  us  here,"  he  cried  rejoicingly,  as 
he  closed  the  door  and  sank  into  a  chair. 

"Us!"  she  repeated  incredulously,  certain  that 
she  had  misunderstood  him.  Then,  in  quick  apology : 

"You  are  exhausted.  Of  course  you  must  take 
a  moment's  rest  before  you  join  the  men." 


A   COWARD   MEETS  HIS   DESERTS  255 

He  looked  up  at  her,  and  she  saw  that  his  face 
was  drawn  with  lines  like  those  of  physical  pain. 

"I  cannot.     I  dare  not  face  it,"  he  said. 

For  the  first  time  she  divined  that  the  strange 
excitement  and  agitation  which  she  had  attributed 
to  his  anxiety  to  get  her  to  a  place  of  safety  had 
been  in  part  due  to  his  own  personal  fear,  and  in 
the  same  instant,  like  many  another  woman,  she 
realized  the  awful  truth  that  this  man,  whom  she 
loved  with  all  her  heart  and  soul,  was  unworthy  of 
her  regard,  a  coward  and  deserter  in  time  of  danger. 
It  mattered  not  what  other  ties  barred  the  way  to 
their  union,  what  weaknesses  he  possessed  to  claim 
her  contempt  rather  than  the  rightful  homage  a 
woman  should  render  the  man  she  loves,  no  matter 
what  the  character  of  the  mystery  that  invested  his 
life,  her  heart  had  gone  out  to  him  beyond  recall. 

Amy  Judith  shrank  from  this  knowledge  as  she 
would  have  shrunk  from  any  impure  thought  or 
base  impulse  that  might  have  found  lodgment  in 
her  mind.  All  the  honor  and  truth  and  faith  of 
her  nature  recoiled  from  the  discovery,  and  de 
manded  that  she  should  cast  out  this  unworthy  affec 
tion.  At  the  same  time,  and  in  spite  of  his  present 
craven  attitude,  his  own  acts  pleaded  for  him.  She 
could  not  help  recalling  his  many  deeds  of  kindness, 
the  loyal  and  unselfish  aid  he  had  rendered  ter  and 
an  erring  boy  who  had  no  claim  upon  him  save  the 
claim  of  the  helpless  and  unfortunate.  But  he  had 
basely  abandoned  his  post  of  duty.  He  was  shrink 
ing  from  an  ordeal  that  a  seventeen -year-old  boy 
was  bravely  facing.  He  had  made  open  confession 


256  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

of  his  own  weakness.  He  had  been  recreant  to  his 
manhood.  Ah,  how  she  wished  that  she  might  hate 
and  despise  him  as  he  deserved! 

A  sudden  glare  illuminated  the  room.  The 
smouldering  embers  at  the  head  of  Hidden  Creek 
had  been  fanned  into  new  life,  and  finding  fresh 
food  in  the  luxurious  growth  along  the  stream  bed, 
the  flames  were  madly  charging  down  the  gulch. 
The  fire  was  upon  them,  with  a  deafening  rush  and 
roar,  dazzling  in  its  splendor,  terrifying  in  its 
majesty. 

She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  find 
ing  relief  from  her  own  battling  emotions  in  wit 
nessing  this  furious  onslaught  of  the  fire-fiend.  In 
the  semi-twilight  of  the  gulch  the  scene  was  one  of 
unearthly  brilliancy.  A  sheet  of  flame  seemed  to 
spread  from  hill  to  hill,  licking  up  the  thick  under 
brush  with  slap  of  its  giant  tongue.  Now  and  then 
a  fiery  thread  would  glide  like  a  serpent  up  a 
snarl  of  climbing  vines  that  wreathed  some  tall  tree, 
writhing  and  hissing  as  it  reached  the  canopy  of 
foliage  above,  and  a  little  later,  with  a  crash  and 
shower  of  sparks,  the  forest  giant  would  fall. 

At  one  time  the  fire  seemed  to  threaten  the  cabin, 
and  she  thankfully  remembered  a  coil  of  hose  at 
tached  to  a  hydrant  beside  the  door,  which  could 
be  resorted  to  in  case  of  need;  but  after  a  series  of 
dazzling  feints  and  sallies,  the  wily  foe  withdrew 
and  sped  on  its  way  to  the  valley,  leaving  a  black 
ened  path  behind,  and  she  knew  that  the  peril  had 
gone  by. 

Smoke  had  penetrated  the  cabin  through  a  hun- 


A  COWARD  MEETS  HIS   DESERTS  257 

dred  chinks  and  crevices,  and  its  atmosphere  was 
stifling.  Her  eyes  were  stinging,  her  throat  was 
dry,  and  a  scorching  breath  seemed  to  have  filled 
her  lungs.  She  groped  her  way  to  the  door  and 
flung  it  open,  letting  in  the  fresh  evening  air. 

All  this  time  Mr.  Paul  had  been  sitting  with  his 
face  in  his  hands.  He  gave  a  groan  of  relief  and 
staggered  to  his  feet,  and  he  was  wan  and  haggard 
as  a  man  who  had  passed  through  some  mortal 
illness. 

Amy  constrained  herself  to  meet  his  eyes,  and 
he  encountered  the  expression  a  man  most  dreads 
to  see  on  a  woman's  face, —  a  look  of  contempt  that 
passed  all  speech. 

It  was  the  girl's  turn  to  cover  her  face,  with  a 
low  cry :  — 

"Oh,  Mr.  Paul,  Mr.  Paul!  I  did  not  mean  that 
you  should  see." 

A  look  of  stern  resentment  succeeded  the  amaze 
ment  in  Mr.  Paul's  countenance. 

"  I  hoped  you  had  sufficient  regard  —  or  at  least 
sufficient  confidence  in  me"  —  he  began. 

"That  is  just  it.  If  I  hadn't  liked  you!  We 
were  such  good  comrades,  such  loyal  friends !  It  is 
a  terrible  thing  to  have  a  friendship,  a  beautiful 
friendship,  slain !  " 

"Don't  talk  of  friendships,  Amy." 

The  young  man  was  evidently  laboring  under 
severe  restraint.  He  walked  up  and  down  the 
apartment,  his  lips  tightly  compressed,  his  whole 
expression  one  of  intense  indignation  and  resent 
ment. 


258  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"No,  it  is  all  gone  by,"  said  the  girl  sadly. 
"Yet  it  is  because  I  so  esteemed  you  yesterday  that 
I  have  courage  to  speak  now.  Granted  that  you 
are  subject  to  some  mortifying,  uncontrollable,  per 
haps  inherited  weakness,  Mr.  Paul,  —  we  all  have 
our  frailties  and  our  weaknesses,  but  they  are  given 
us  to  control,  not  to  make  weak  surrender  to." 

Mr.  Paul  stopped  before  her,  looking  down  upon 
her  with  a  strange  smile,  and  for  an  instant  it 
seemed  as  if  he  were  about  to  speak,  but  her  next 
words  silenced  him.  For  she  went  on,  steadfast  in 
her  purpose,  in  a  dreary  little  monotone :  — 

"The  duty  that  is  appointed  is  the  one  that  comes 
to  our  hand,  and  we  owe  it  to  our  manhood  and  our 
womanhood  to  face  it  without  flinching  or  counting 
the  cost.  But  you  —  you  yielded  without  resist 
ance;  you  did  not  make  the  slightest  effort  to  over 
come  yourself  and  to  rise  to  the  demands  of  the 
hour  and  of  your  manhood." 

Once  again  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  about  to 
speak,  and  she  waited,  half  hoping  that  his  words 
might  explain  his  strange  moral  collapse,  half  dread 
ing  lest  they  confirm  it  in  its  worst  aspect.  She 
resumed,  speaking  wearily,  sadly,  hopelessly :  — 

"I  have  so  honored  you  for  your  goodness  to 
Rob.  Your  past  was  nothing  to  me.  I  have  never 
asked,  I  do  not  ask  you,  to  explain  the  mystery  of 
the  black  curtain.  The  careless  gossip  of  the  coun 
try  is  nothing  to  me.  That  is,  no  doubt,  nothing 
but  some  harmless  caprice  with  little  significance, 
a  mere  shield  behind  which  you  screen  from  curious 
gaze  or  profane  touch  some  article  or  furnishings 


A  COWARD   MEETS   HIS   DESERTS  259 

dear  to  you  through  past  association.  But  this  is 
different.  This  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes;  it 
is  unanswerable.  Men  have  gone  into  battle  shrink 
ing  in  every  limb,  trembling  at  the  sound  of  can 
non;  and  they  have  come  out  heroes.  I  would 
rather  have  seen  you  dead  at  my  feet,  than  to  have 
known  you  a  "  — 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  Something  in 
the  face  of  the  man  standing  so  grave  and  silent 
before  her  arrested  her  words. 

"A  coward." 

In  dignity  and  calmness  he  finished  the  speech 
for  her,  and  he  seemed  to  grow  in  stature  as  he 
pronounced  the  word,  so  immeasurably  above  and 
beyond  its  reach  did  he  seem. 

To  a  casual  observer,  the  woman  who  had  framed 
this  cruel  sentence  might  at  the  moment  have  seemed 
to  be  in  greater  need  of  pity  than  the  man  upon 
whom  it  fell.  For  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands 
as  he  spoke,  and  her  cheeks  burned  with  shame. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

HEROISM 

WHEN  the  fire  tore  like  a  cyclone  down  the  hills 
that  afternoon,  interrupting  Mr.  Paul  and  Rob  at 
their  pleasant  labor,  it  was  at  the  boy's  suggestion 
that  Mr.  Paul  hastened  down  to  the  mesa  to  warn 
his  sister  and  see  that  she  found  a  place  of  safety. 
To  the  lad  there  was  exhilaration  in  the  threatening 
danger,  and  although  he  had  patiently  undertaken 
his  share  of  the  season's  cares,  he  rejoiced  in  this 
escape  from  the  monotony  of  daily  routine,  and  the 
chance  to  join  in  a  hand-to-hand  conflict  with  the 
fiery  monster  which  was  menacing  his  home. 

The  wood-cutters,  scenting  danger  with  the  first 
stir  of  the  east  wind,  had  abandoned  their  work, 
and  armed  with  axe  and  mattocks,  were  hurrying 
across  to  make  a  clearing  in  the  path  of  the  advan 
cing  foe. 

"There  comes  McCabe  and  his  boys! "  one  cried, 
pointing  to  some  black  figures  climbing  the  hillside 
above  a  little  farm  located  at  the  mouth  of  the 
canon  below. 

"And  yon  's  a  team  coming  up  from  town!  "  said 
the  other,  pointing  to  a  cloud  of  dust  whirling  along 
the  highway.  "We'll  have  help.  They  all  know 
what  this  means." 

A  dozen  years  before,  another  east  wind,  frolick- 


HEROISM  261 

ing  over  the  hills  from  the  desert,  had  brought  a 
fierce  fire  down  upon  the  valley,  more  thickly 
wooded  then  than  now,  and  many  homes  had  been 
destroyed  and  orchards  and  vineyards  despoiled 
before  its  progress  had  been  checked. 

A  host  of  earnest  workers  were  soon  on  the  scene, 
but  before  they  could  reach  it  the  fire  had  spread 
in  all  directions,  and  the  belt  of  country  to  be  cov 
ered  was  wide.  They  succeeded  in  stopping  its 
spread  in  one  place,  only  to  find  that  it  had  escaped 
them  in  another,  but  they  battled  on  undaunted,  as 
only  men  can  fight  who  struggle  for  the  preserva 
tion  of  their  homes.  They  grubbed  at  the  roots  of 
the  tough  chaparral,  and  tore  out  the  lighter  growths 
of  underbrush  with  their  naked  hands,  flinging  it 
in  the  maw  of  the  advancing  demon.  Now  and 
then,  when  a  sufficient  clearance  had  been  made, 
they  burned  away  small  strips  of  ground,  piled  high 
with  the  uprooted  brush,  that  the  flames  might  find 
nothing  to  feed  upon  when  they  reached  the  spot. 

The  greatest  menace  to  the  workers  and  the  fire's 
chief  allies  were  the  great  trees,  whose  branches,  like 
flaming  banners,  served  to  carry  the  enemy's  victory 
into  new  territory.  At  one  point,  where  the  flames 
were  well  under  control,  a  tall,  dead  sycamore  was 
discovered  aflame.  The  men  undertook  to  fell  it 
with  axes,  but  a  shower  of  burning  brands  forced 
them  to  desist. 

"If  we  could  get  a  rope  through  the  fork  of  them 
limbs,  twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  we  'd  bring  her 
down.  Then  we  'd  be  masters  of  the  situation," 
said  McCabe,  who  by  virtue  of  his  superior  force 


262  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

and  decision  had  been  conceded  the  leadership. 
"  If  she  falls  now,  she  '11  go  the  wrong  way  and 
undo  everything." 

They  tried  to  cast  one  end  of  a  long  rope  over 
the  tree,  but  the  wind  tossed  it  about,  and  the  flam 
ing  branches,  like  so  many  waving  arms,  beat  it 
back,  while  the  fire  gained  furious  headway. 

"It 's  as  much  as  a  man's  life  is  worth  to  climb 
her,"  remarked  one  old  man.  "I  'd  tackle  her,  but 
the  rheumatics  in  my  knees  makes  me  that  clumsy 
I  'm  afeard  I  couldn't  make  it." 

Rob,  who,  with  the  great  dog  Hercules  by  his 
side,  had  been  one  of  the  most  energetic  and  effi 
cient  in  the  ranks,  came  up  in  season  to  hear  this 
conversation  and  to  recognize  the  need. 

"I'll  take  it  up.  I'm  the  lightest,"  he  cried. 
"  Give  me  a  hand,  McCabe !  " 

Seizing  the  coil  of  rope,  and  bracing  himself 
against  McCabe 's  stout  shoulder,  he  succeeded  in 
mounting  the  slippery  trunk  to  where  a  broken 
limb  afforded  him  a  foothold.  From  this  point  the 
ascent  was  comparatively  easy,  save  for  the  blinding 
shower  of  fire  that  greeted  his  every  upward  glance. 

"That  boy  has  grit.  I  like  him,"  was  McCabe's 
comment,  as  they  watched  him. 

Hob  reached  his  goal  in  safety,  although  his 
hands  were  bruised  and  burned,  and  on  his  cheek 
and  neck  a  falling  brand  seared  deeply,  causing 
agonizing  pain.  Bracing  himself  in  the  crotch  of 
two  limbs,  he  flung  the  rope  through  the  fork  of  the 
limbs  above.  The  shout  that  went  up  from  below 
was  better  than  ointment  for  his  smarting  wounds, 


HEROISM  263 

and  he  waved  a  triumphant  greeting  and  cheered 
lustily  over  the  success  of  his  mission. 

No  one  knew  exactly  how  it  happened.  Self- 
forgetful  in  his  boyish  rejoicing,  he  may  have  for 
the  instant  loosed  his  hold ;  a  foot  may  have  slipped 
as  he  began  his  perilous  descent;  the  hands  that 
grasped  the  rope  may  have  unconsciously  laid  weight 
upon  it;  or  it  may  be  the  old  tree  was  so  rotten  at 
the  roots  that  the  boy's  weight  overbalanced  the 
slender  hold  it  had  upon  the  earth. 

Still  blazing,  and  with  twinkling  branches  out 
spread  like  a  great  flaming  candelabra,  it  tottered 
and  went  down.  Down  into  a  blazing  line  of  brush 
and  chaparral,  scattering  ashes  like  whirlwinds  in 
all  the  air  around,  while  the  smoke  rose  like  a  pall, 
the  old  tree  lay  prone  in  its  death  agony,  a  help 
less,  uncouth  shape,  lifting  gaunt  and  blackened 
arms  as  if  in  mute  appeal.  But  where  was  the 
lad  who  had  but  the  moment  before  cried  out  ex- 
ultingly  at  its  conquest? 

Hercules  was  barking  furiously  about  the  smoul 
dering  chaparral,  where  the  tree  pressed  heavily 
upon  it. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Don't  you  see  where  the  dog  is  barking,  under 
that  branch  there  ?  Lend  a  hand,  boys !  "  Raise  the 
heavy  limb  that  binds  him  down  in  that  fiery  fur 
nace.  Lift  him  out  tenderly,  carefully!  Is  he 
quite  dead?  Oh,  the  foolhardiness  of  it!  Why 
had  they  let  him  undertake  so  desperate  a  venture  ? 
Better  that  a  few  fields  should  have  been  burned, 
a  few  buildings  destroyed,  than  that  this  young  life 


264  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

should  be  sacrificed !  Bring  water,  and  wipe  away 
the  grime  and  blood  from  his  pale  face.  Straighten 
the  limp  limbs  and  fold  the  bruised  hands  where 
cruel  burns  have  eaten  deep  into  the  flesh. 

Suddenly  McCabe,  kneeling  beside  the  boy,  and 
directing  these  tender  offices,  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"His  heart  's  beating!  Send  Jim  to  the  village 
for  a  doctor.  Two  of  you  stay  and  watch  the  fire. 
The  wind  's  gone  down,  and  unless  it  starts  up 
again,  the  danger  's  past." 

Constructing  a  simple  litter  of  willow  poles,  lined 
with  fragrant  chemisal,  they  carried  him  down  to 
Mr.  Paul's  cabin,  crossing  the  blackened  cornfield 
where  the  lad  had  so  patiently  toiled  that  summer, 
with  honor  and  liberty  his  stake,  and  where  here 
and  there  charred  stalks,  like  so  many  ineffectual 
prayer  plumes,  drooped  their  tasseled  heads. 

The  movement  through  the  cool  night  air  restored 
him  to  consciousness,  and  with  consciousness  came 
pain. 

Amy  Judith  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  and  peer 
ing  out  into  the  twilight,  saw  the  shadowy  proces 
sion  and  hurried  out  to  meet  it.  Ashes,  gray  as 
early  snow,  covered  the  ground,  which  was  still  hot 
beneath  her  feet. 

The  men's  faces  were  blackened  with  smoke  and 
sweat,  but  they  were  heroes,  every  one,  the  girl  felt, 
with  a  thrill  of  sympathy  that  steeled  her  heart 
against  her  own  small  woes.  But  what  was  the 
burden  they  carried? 

"Rob!" 

He  tried  to  rise  on  his  elbow  with  a  reassuring 
speech. 


HEROISM  265 

"I 'm  all  right,  Amy.  Don't  worry!  There's 
no  occasion"  —  he  protested,  and  immediately  pro 
ceeded  to  give  tangible  proof  of  his  assertion  by 
fainting  away. 

"He  got  his  arm  rather  badly  mangled  and  his 
back  hurt  by  the  falling  of  a  tree;  and  he  's  got 
some  ugly  burns,"  explained  McCabe. 

Mr.  Paul's  strong  arms  lifted  the  injured  boy 
and  carried  him  to  his  own  bed,  in  an  alcove  ad 
joining  the  large  living-room.  It  was  Mr.  Paul's 
clear  head  and  ready  wit  which  brought  order  out 
of  chaos,  and  applied  healing  lotions  to  the  deep 
burns,  with  a  touch  tender  as  a  woman's.  And 
when  everything  had  been  done  that  the  resources 
of  the  mountain  home  would  permit,  he  it  was  who 
took  up  his  watch  by  Rob's  bedside,  insisting 
upon  sharing  his  care  with  the  distracted  girl,  min 
istering  to  the  sufferer's  every  want,  anticipating 
every  demand. 

The  men  had  been  gone  but  a  short  time  when 
there  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  which  Mr.  Paul 
hastened  to  answer.  He  found  McCabe  and  an 
other  man  there,  the  bearers  of  an  important  com 
munication,  which,  curtly  ignoring  the  young  man, 
they  insisted  upon  delivering  to  Miss  Judith  in 
person. 

Amy  reluctantly  left  her  post  and  presented  her 
self  before  them,  looking  so  frail  and  slight  that  the 
men's  hats  were  doffed  in  an  instant,  and  they  felt 
a  chivalrous  joy  in  the  message  they  brought. 

"We  just  came  to  tell  you  —  I  thought  maybe 
you'd  like  to  know" — began  McCabe,  his  honest 


266  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

face  beaming,  "that  we  thought  we'd  take  a  look 
around  when  we  were  on  the  way  down,  to  sort  o' 
make  note  of  the  mischief  done,  like  the  appraisers 
the  underwriters  send  out  when  a  house  or  barn 
burns  down.  And  if  you  '11  believe  me,  ma'am, 
that  darned  little  paper  house  is  hanging  there  in 
its  tree,  big  as  life  an'  pert  as  all  creation." 

"The  fire  must  have  taken  a  turn  there.  How 
strange!  "  was  Amy's  musing  comment. 

"That's  just  what  it  didn't  do,  ma'am,"  said 
McCabe.  "It  made  a  clean  sweep  down  to  Jake 
Wright's  stubble-field,  where  they  stopped  it  by 
ploughing  fresh  furrows.  It  took  everything  on 
the  way,  mowed  down  big  live-oaks  like  so  many 
mustard  stalks  and  charred  the  very  boulders.  But 
there  stands  that  oak  and  that  little  house  in  it,  only 
scorched  a  mite  on  one  side  where  a  vine  dumb 
up  the  tree.  Hen-house  's  gone,  an'  the  big  oak 
on  the  east  side  's  a  heap  of  ashes,  but  that  tinder- 
box  had  the  queerest  luck.  Must  be  it 's  got  some 
sort  of  fireproof  dressing  over  it.  But  here  comes 
the  doctor.  If  you  don't  mind,  I  '11  just  wait  and 
see  what  he  has  to  say.  Everybody  down  our 
way  '11  be  wanting  to  hear,"  added  McCabe. 

The  old  physician  shook  his  head  doubtfully  when 
he  saw  the  extent  of  the  burns.  Rob  was  growing 
feverish,  and  had  relapsed  into  unconsciousness, 
moaning  with  pain  and  muttering  about  the  fire  and 
the  tree,  sometimes  feebly  summoning  Hercules  to 
his  aid,  and  again  begging  the  men  to  lift  the 
weight  that  pinned  him  down. 

"His  chances  are  slim,"  the  doctor  said  at  length, 


HEROISM  267 

with  cruel  frankness.  "He  was  evidently  in  an 
exhausted  condition  when  the  injuries  were  sus 
tained.  That  great  patch  on  his  neck  and  cheek, 
where  the  skin  is  burned  away,  is  enough  to  kill  a 
strong  man.  Nature's  recuperative  forces  are  lim 
ited.  To  be  sure,  he  has  youth  in  his  favor,  but  I 
fear  all  we  can  do  is  to  relieve  his  sufferings  as  far 
as  we  can." 

Amy  Judith,  overpowered  with  sudden  faintness, 
dropped  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed  where  the  poor 
sufferer  was  now  babbling  of  water,  cool,  flowing 
water,  and  begging  to  have  his  face  and  hands  laved 
in  it.  The  doctor  looked  pitifully  upon  her,  and 
McCabe,  who  had  followed  to  the  threshold,  unable 
to  bear  the  sight,  tiptoed  clumsily  away.  But  Mr. 
Paul  touched  the  doctor  lightly  on  his  arm. 

"A  few  words  with  you,  doctor,  if  you  please. 
Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  come  this  way?" 

The  doctor  followed,  marveling  at  his  unconcerned 
voice  and  manner.  McCabe  was  standing  in  the 
large  room,  the  picture  of  helpless  misery. 

"Have  you  ever  tried  skin-grafting,  doctor?" 
Mr.  Paul  asked,  still  in  the  same  careless  voice. 

"Once,  years  ago,  when  the  experiment  was 
new." 

"Was  it  a  success?" 

"Decidedly." 

"What  would  its  effect  be  in  this  case?" 

"The  boy's  salvation,  if  done  under  the  right 
conditions.  But  it  would  be  necessary  to  engraft 
from  a  healthy,  vigorous  person.  You  never  find 
any  one  willing  to  volunteer  in  such  cases  except 


268  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

members  of  the  patient's  family.  As  I  understand 
it,  young  Judith  has  no  relative  but  that  delicate 
girl.  I  '11  tell  you  honestly,  Mr.  Paul,  I  would  n't 
dare  undertake  it,  if  she  were  willing.  She  isn't 
strong  enough.  I  couldn't  forecast  the  result." 

"How  wiU  this  do?" 

Mr.  Paul  rolled  back  the  sleeve  from  his  left  arm, 
displaying  the  muscles  of  an  athlete,  covered  with 
a  skin  fair  and  free  from  blemish  as  a  girl's.  The 
doctor's  eyes  sparkled. 

"Good!  "  he  cried.  "But  we  must  lose  no  time. 
Come  on,  McCabe!  I  want  your  help." 

"By  the  Lord,  you  '11  have  it  in  more  ways  than 
one!  "  responded  McCabe,  slowly  gathering  the 
meaning  of  this  demonstration.  "It's  I  that  will 
be  proud,  doctor,  to  have  a  drop  of  my  blood  run 
ning  in  that  brave  lad's  veins." 

Amy  Judith  did  not  understand  why  she  was  so 
summarily  banished  from  the  room  where  the  young 
sufferer  lay,  but  she  obediently  followed  the  doctor's 
directions,  making  ready  warm  water  and  preparing 
fresh  bandages,  all  unconscious  of  the  scene  that 
was  transpiring  behind  the  drawn  portiere. 

Mr.  Paul  stood  without  flinching  while  the  doctor 
removed  patch  after  patch  of  skin,  until  his  arm 
was  dripping  blood  and  checked  from  wrist  to  shoul 
der.  When  it  came  McCabe 's  turn,  at  the  first 
prick  of  the  knife,  the  strong  man  turned  white,  and 
dropped,  half  fainting,  into  the  nearest  chair. 

"Ow!  It  's  like  being  vaccinated,  doctor;  I 
never  could  stand  it." 

"  I  really  think  we  can  dispense  with  your  epider- 


HEROISM  269 

mis,  McCabe.  Mr.  Paul  has  contributed  enough," 
said  the  doctor,  looking  with  pride  upon  the  parti 
cles  of  white  skin  inlaid  upon  the  angry  surface  of 
his  patient's  wound,  and  commencing  to  bandage  it 
skillfully. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

MR.  PAUL  BEHIND  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"I  WANT  to  have  a  talk  with  you  both  about  my 
—  affairs,"  said  Rob,  some  days  later,  as  he  lay 
back  in  a  reclining-chair,  fully  dressed,  but  still 
swathed  in  bandages,  in  the  pleasant  apartment  that 
had  been  allotted  him. 

The  siege  of  suffering  through  which  he  had  passed 
had  left  Rob  pale  and  wasted,  but  all  danger  from 
any  shock  to  the  system  resulting  from  the  exten 
sive  surface  of  skin  burned  over  was  past,  and  the 
mangled  arm  was  now  the  most  serious  injury,  re 
quiring  good  care  and  frequent  dressing.  The  hurt 
to  the  spine  had  been  trifling,  and  while  he  would 
probably  have  a  weak  back  for  a  year  or  more  to 
come,  there  was  no  reason  why  it  should  not  in  time 
become  strong  and  sound  again. 

"Don't  try  to  talk  now.  Try  not  to  think!" 
said  his  sister  impulsively. 

"But  I  must.  I  can't  help  thinking,  and  I  must 
have  it  out  now  and  here.  Our  crops  —  all  we 
depended  upon  —  are  gone.  A  clean  sweep,  Mr. 
Paul?" 

"A  clean  sweep,  with  the  exception  of  the  hay 
already  stored  at  Barry's,"  replied  Mr.  Paul  gravely. 

"  If  it  were  any  other  man  but  Norcross,  we  might 


MR.  PAUL  BEHIND  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN    271 

pay  over  the  little  we  have,  and  get  the  time  ex 
tended.  But  the  old  captain  always  prides  himself 
on  being  a  man  of  his  word." 

"Yes,  it  would  be  useless  to  try  to  temporize  with 
Norcross." 

"I  've  done  my  best,  and  failed."  The  lad's  face 
quivered.  Amy  buried  her  face  in  the  coverlet 
beside  him.  "But "  —  Rob  rallied  —  "you  've  done 
more  than  your  best,  —  you  and  Amy.  You  've 
been  the  kindest  friends  a  boy  ever  had.  You  've 
done  more  than  you  had  any  right  to  do,  and  it 's 
been  no  use.  Now  what  I  want  to  say  is  this: 
You  shan't  be  cumbered  by  me  any  longer.  Next 
week  I  '11  be  able  to  travel,  and  I  '11  go  to  San  Fran 
cisco  and  give  myself  up  and  take  my  sentence. 
Don't  cry,  Amy!  " 

For  she  was  sobbing  violently  beside  him. 

Rob  went  on  speaking  with  feverish  haste. 

"It's  the  right  thing  to  do.  It 's  what  I  ought 
to  have  done  in  the  first  place.  I  see  it  now.  But 
I  was  so  young  and  the  chance  of  liberty  was 
tempting." 

There  was  a  break  in  his  voice.  Amy  raised  her 
face,  streaming  with  tears,  and  kissed  the  maimed 
arm  and  bandaged  hand.  Rob  tried  to  speak  cheer- 
fully. 

"I  '11  promise  you  I  '11  keep  straight  all  the  time 
I  'm  in  there,  Amy.  And  I  'm  young  yet,  and  the 
time  won't  be  long.  I  '11  earn  every  credit  there 
is,  and  shorten  the  time  all  I  can.  And  I  '11  keep 
straight  when  I  come  out.  I  '11  come  back  to  you, 
Amy,  then,  if  you  're  not  ashamed  to  have  me,  and 


I 

272  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

I  '11  work  my  way  up  again,  honestly  and  squarely, 
so  help  me  God !  " 

There  was  a  hush  in  the  room,  disturbed  only  by 
Amy's  sobs,  breaking  forth  again  in  uncontrollable 
anguish. 

Mr.  Paul  had  hitherto  listened  in  silence  and 
with  the  grave  expression  growing  on  his  face.  He 
bent  down  now,  and  took  Rob's  unhurt  hand  in  his. 

"So  help  me  God,  Robert  Judith,"  he  said  sol 
emnly,  "you  shall  never  step  inside  prison  walls." 

The  boy  feebly  shook  his  head.  Amy  raised  her 
head,  looking  up  reproachfully  through  her  tears, 
as  if  she  would  upbraid  Mr.  Paul  for  holding  forth 
a  hope  so  impossible  of  realization. 

"I  have  one  resource,  Rob,  which  we  have  all 
been  forgetting,  —  my  fairy  purse.  I  think  there 
are  a  few  coins  left.  I  shall  draw  upon  it  now. 
Norcross  shall  be  paid  promptly  on  the  day  when 
the  note  falls  due." 

He  tried  to  speak  lightly,  but  there  was  still  such 
solemnity  in  his  voice  that  his  two  hearers  were 
strangely  moved.  Rob's  eyes  shone  with  new  hope 
and  courage. 

"Are  you  sure  you  can  —  spare  it,  Mr.  Paul?  " 

"Yes.  It  is  merely  an  investment,  Rob.  If  I 
should  try  to  keep  the  coins,  they  might  only  be 
lost  to  me  in  the  end.  This  way  I  make  sure  of 
them,  you  see.  —  Amy,  may  I  have  a  word  with 
you?" 

While  Rob  lay  idly  in  his  chair,  with  bright 
visions  of  a  free  future  flitting  past  his  closed  eyes, 
Mr.  Paul  led  her  to  the  outer  room,  through  whose 


MR.  PAUL   BEHIND   THE  BLACK  CURTAIN    273 

broad  windows  they  could  see  the  birds  flitting  to 
and  fro,  laying  new  plans  for  home-building. 

Amy  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Mr.  Paul,  will  you  forget  —  what  I  said — that 
day?  I  was  half  wild  with  anxiety  for  Rob.  I  did 
not  realize  what  I  was  saying.  Can  we  not  be 
friends  again?  "  putting  out  a. timid  little  hand. 

"I  do  not  want  your  friendship,  nor  even  your 
loyal  comradeship.  Friendship  is  not  for  you  and 
me,  Amy.  Some  day  I  had  meant  to  ask  you  once 
again  for  a  more  precious  gift,  but  that  is  all  gone 
by.  Trust  is  the  very  foundation-stone  of  all  true 
affection.  When  doubt  undermines  it,  the  whole 
structure  goes  down." 

Had  she  obeyed  the  impulse  of  her  heart  and, 
putting  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  resting  her 
head  upon  his  breast,  whispered  her  penitence  and 
her  trust,  she  would  have  had  cause  to  rejoice  all  the 
rest  of  her  life,  and  been  spared  much  bitter  regret. 
That  she  made  no  sign  of  the  love  and  compassion 
and  sorrow  that  surged  within  her  was  due  in  part 
to  her  own  shy  willfulness,  in  part  to  a  haunting 
recollection  of  the  day  when  she  had  fallen  from 
the  bluff  and  been  brought  to  his  cabin,  and  the 
half  confidence  that  he  had  made  her  then. 

A  singular  transformation  appeared  to  come  over 
this  man  whom  she  had  known  so  long  and  inti 
mately.  Instead  of  the  cheerful,  practical-minded 
young  ranchman  who  had  quibbled  with  her  over 
land  titles,  thrust  good-natured  assistance  upon 
her,  and  shown  himself  her  stanch  friend  and  wise 
adviser  in  time  of  trouble,  Mr.  Paul  had  suddenly 


274  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

retreated  to  an  immeasurable  distance.  His  voice, 
low  and  deep,  seemed  merely  to  echo  emotions  .that 
belonged,  to  some  remote  past.  He  went  on,  in  the 
same  measured,  abstract  tone.  • 

"You  have  told  me  some  bitter  truths,  little 
woman,  but  I  want  to  assure  you  now  that  should 
the  time  ever  come  when  you  feel  disposed  to  re 
proach  yourself  for  them,  I  sincerely  thank  you  for 
your  frank  and  fearless  speech.  A  man  has  no 
right  to  make  weak  surrender  to  the  inevitable.  It 
is  better  to  fight  honorably  to  the  bitter  end,  and 
to  go  down  in  battle  with  one's  face  to  the  foe,  than 
to  weakly  capitulate  and  cry  for  quarter,  as  I  have 
done.  To-day  I  shall  lift  the  black  curtain.  There 
is  blessing  even  in  loss,  for  had  you  loved  me,  this 
pall  might  have  forever  overhung  my  life.  When 
I  put  the  curtain  in  place  I  did  not  foresee  that  it 
was  destined  to  take  such  a  hold  upon  the  imagina 
tion  of  the  countryside.  It  was  kind  of  you  to  view 
the  matter  so  sensibly.  I  assure  you  that  you  are 
correct  in  supposing  it  to  be  merely  a  harmless 
caprice  of  mine;  yet  its  lifting  will  not  be  with 
out  significance  to  me." 

He  crossed  the  room  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
drapery's  sombre  folds.  The  girl,  watching  his 
sober  face,  felt  a  chill  foreboding  as  the  heavy  cloth 
swayed  beneath  his  touch. 

The  next  instant  the  black  curtain  parted,  and 
when  it  fell  again  hi  place,  Mr.  Paul  had  disap 
peared  behind  it. 


ROB   RECEIVES   A   COMMISSION 

DURING  the  days  that  elapsed  before  Rob's  con 
dition  would  permit  of  his  removal,  he  and  his  sister 
saw  little  of  their  host,  who  remained  for  the  most 
part  in  strict  and  mysterious  seclusion  behind  the 
black  curtain. 

When  the  demands  of  their  simple  way  of  life 
brought  them  in  contact,  or  when  his  solicitude  for 
the  injured  boy  caused  him  to  join  them,  although 
he  made  a  manifest  effort  to  direct  conversation  in 
light  channels  and  to  encourage  and  stimulate  Rob, 
and  often  entertained  »his  guests  charmingly  with 
anecdote  and  reminiscence,  always  impersonal  in 
character,  he  relapsed  by  turns  into  fits  of  singular 
abstraction,  and  day  by  day  the  drawn  and  haggard 
look  deepened  on  his  face. 

Strive  as  she  might  to  fill  her  mind  with  cheerful 
thoughts  and  to  banish  morbid  speculation,  Amy 
Judith  was  painfully  sensitive  to  every  sound  that 
came  from  the  distant  recess  over  which  the  funereal 
drapery  hung.  Sometimes  she  heard  the  sound  of 
footsteps  pacing  to  and  fro,  up  and  down,  with  a 
wearisome  monotony  and  restlessness  that  told  of 
a  spirit  chafing  and  striving.  Occasionally  there 
was  a  movement  as  if  some  piece  of  furniture  were 


276  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

being  shifted  from  place  to  place;  but  more  fre 
quently  there  were  long,  deathlike  silences,  when 
not  so  much  as  a  stir  or  rustle  betokened  the  pre 
sence  of  human  life  in  the  shadowy  embrasure ;  and 
these  silences  were  to  the  girl's  sensibility  most  pain 
ful  to  bear,  for  they  seemed  pregnant  with  signifi 
cance,  weighted  with  untold  agony. 

It  was  a  relief  to  them  all  when  Rob  one  day 
regained  his  feet,  and  announced  his  ability  to  walk, 
and  they  climbed  the  hill  to  the  little  home,  doubly 
dear  to  them  after  the  fiery  ordeal  it  had  passed 
unscathed. 

The  leaves  of  the  oak  were  scorched  upon  one 
side ;  a  curtain  that  had  fluttered  out  of  a  window 
hung,  a  charred  rag,  in  the  opening;  and  a  single 
dark  stain  on  the  enamel  covering  the  substance  of 
which  the  house  was  made  told  of  the  futile  effort 
the  flames  had  made  to  gain  possession  of  the  dwell 
ing.  With  this  single  exception,  the  cottage  was 
untouched,  but  around  it  all  was  desolation. 

"Looks  as  if  lightning  had  struck  it!"  observed 
Eob. 

"It's  a  blasted  heath.  The  witches  have  been 
holding  high  carnival  on  it!"  cried  Amy  fantasti 
cally. 

Although  few  of  the  trees  had  fallen,  they  pre 
sented  a  melancholy  appearance,  with  blackened 
trunks  and  naked  boughs,  while  the  ground  beneath 
was  carpeted  with  pale  gray  ashes.  Not  a  green 
leaf  or  blade  of  grass,  or  a  single  bud  or  flower,  was 
spared.  Even  the  vigorous  climbing-rose  that  Amy 
had  been  training  when  the  alarm  was  given  had 


ROB   RECEIVES   A  COMMISSION  277 

writhed  from  its  fastenings  and  fallen  to  the  ground, 
distorted  and  charred. 

The  utter  desolation  of  the  pretty  garden  over 
which  she  had  so  faithfully  toiled  might  well  have 
daunted  a  stouter  heart  than  Amy  Judith's;  but 
the  spirit  that  had  so  many  times  before  faced  dis 
aster  with  undiminished  courage  blazed  up  afresh 
at  sight  of  the  havoc  the  fire  had  wrought. 

"At  any  rate,  all  the  weeds  are  killed.  That  is 
one  thing  to  rejoice  over.  And  I  've  always  under 
stood  ashes  were  excellent  fertilizers.  We  've  cer 
tainly  had  the  ground  enriched  on  a  large  scale," 
she  said  blithely. 

Days  and  weeks  moved  slowly  by,  and  still  Mr. 
Paul  maintained  his  mysterious  seclusion.  Occa 
sionally  he  paid  a  brief  evening  call  at  the  cottage, 
but  the  strange  air  of  remoteness  and  separation 
that  had  marked  him  in  the  days  of  their  enforced 
stay  at  the  cabin  still  encompassed  him,  and  when 
he  rose  to  go,  his  departure  brought  a  sense  of  relief 
to  all  three. 

In  these  days  Mr.  Paul  seemed  to  have  resigned 
his  customary  interests,  all  of  his  time  being  ab 
sorbed  by  the  secret  undertaking  upon  which  his 
whole  being  seemed  intent.  Rob,  who  brought  and 
carried  his  light  mail,  observed  the  neglected  condi 
tion  of  his  little  garden,  the  air  of  forlornness  and 
even  disorder  that  invested  the  cabin,  but  a  sense 
of  delicacy  and  reserve,  new  to  the  boy,  restrained 
him  from  either  offering  his  services  or  intruding 
impertinent  inquiries. 

One  day,  as  Rob  lingered  to  give  a  handful  of 


278  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

grass  to  the  sorrel  mare,  whinnying  at  the  end  of 
her  tether,  Mr.  Paul  came  out  with  an  open  letter 
in  his  hand. 

"Rob,  I  wish  you  'd  put  the  mare  in  harness 
and  hurry  down  to  meet  the  afternoon  train.  I  'm 
expecting  a  friend,  and  I  want  you  to  bring  him 
up.  It 's  due  at  2.30,  and  there  's  no  time  to  lose." 

Mr.  Paul  seemed  quite  his  old  self.  There  was 
a  smile  on  his  face,  but  he  was  pale  and  worn  as 
a  man  who  had  engaged  in  some  mortal  contest  and 
triumphed. 

It  was  so  long  a  time  since  the  young  man  had 
asked  service  or  favor  that  Rob  was  rejoiced  to  exe 
cute  this  commission.  He  hastened  to  exchange  the 
mare's  halter  for  her  bridle,  and  was  soon  driving 
up  the  road  which  the  two  had  carved  out  of  the 
hillside  the  spring  before.  He  was  halfway  to  the 
village  before  he  realized  that  in  his  haste  he  had 
forgotten  to  ask  the  name  of  Mr.  Paul's  friend,  but 
he  reflected  that  travel  was  so  light  along  the  road, 
and  arrivals  at  the  station  so  few,  that  he  could 
scarcely  fail  to  intercept  the  expected  guest. 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

ON   THE   TRACK   OF  A   COUNTERFEITER 

MR.  PAUL'S  singular  seclusion  had  attracted  the 
attention  of  others  besides  the  dwellers  of  the  paper 
cottage,  and  it  is  needless  to  state  that  the  outside 
world  placed  a  less  liberal  construction  upon  it. 

For  weeks  his  cabin  had  been  closed  to  passers-by, 
and  although  this  withdrawal  of  hospitality  worked 
no  hardship  in  the  mildest  season  of  the  year,  it 
was  regarded  as  an  affront  to  travelers  up  the  trail, 
—  an  incivility  which,  added  to  other  offenses  laid 
at  the  young  man's  door,  provoked  the  public  indig 
nation  and  prepared  public  sentiment  for  what  was 
to  follow. 

"Boys,  I  've  found  my  man!  " 

It  was  the  sheriff  of  the  county  who  spoke.  He 
had  summoned  his  entire  force  in  consultation,  and 
the  men  had  promptly  obeyed  the  call,  knowing  that 
only  an  emergency  of  extraordinary  importance 
could  have  stirred  their  phlegmatic  chief  to  such  a 
measure. 

They  knew  at  once  to  what  he  referred.  For 
months  past  a  genuine  sensation  had  been  bubbling 
and  fermenting  along  the  Vernal  Hills.  The  coast 
counties  of  southern  California  had  recently  been 
flooded  with  counterfeit  coin,  and  although  the 


280  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

.  brightest  agents  in  the  government's  employ  had 
been  assigned  to  that  locality,  all  efforts  to  trace 
the  spurious  coin  to  its  source  had  been  unavailing. 
A  short  time  previous,  one  of  these  secret  agents 
had  paid  this  district  a  visit,  and  had  declared  his 
conviction  that  the  counterfeiters'  den  was  not  a 
dozen  miles  from  the  Vernal  Hills.  Since  then 
every  man  on  the  constabulary  force  had  been  on 
the  lookout.  False  trails  innumerable  had  been 
taken  up  and  run  down,  but  the  artful  offenders 
were  still  at  large. 

All  looked  their  interest  and  awaited  the  sheriff's 
further  confidence. 

"It's  that  fellow  Paul,  who's  been  living  up 
there  on  Escondido  Creek." 

" Gee-whillikins !  You  mean  to  say  he's  been 
carrying  on  this  business  all  along,  right  under  our 
noses?" 

"I  mean  to  say  nothin'  I  can't  prove!  "  returned 
the  sheriff  discreetly,  enjoying  the  sensation  he  had 
produced. 

"I  ain't  one  mite  surprised.  Not  one  mite! 
I  've  said  to  myself  all  along  there  was  something 
wrong  about  that  fellow  Paul.  What 's  a  man  like 
him  up  here  for,  anyway?  He  's  no  farmer,  if  he 
did  harrow  in  a  field  of  hay  this  year  and  a  few 
rows  of  corn.  And  he 's  no  invalid.  And  if  a 
man  's  in  good  health  and  no  farmer,  what  busi 
ness  's  he  got  going  up  into  the  hills  and  living  off 
by  hisself?"  demanded  another,  who  felt  that  his 
argument  was  unanswerable. 

"I  tell  you  he's  ekle  to  it.     Any  man  that'll 


ON  THE   TRACK  OF  A   COUNTERFEITER    281 

hide  in  his  house  when  a  fire  's  ragin'  all  over  the 
country,  and  let  others  fight  to  save  his  property,  'd 
steal  the  pennies  off  his  dead  grandmother's  eyes," 
was  the  ghoulish  suggestion  of  a  gray-bearded  dep 
uty,  one  Watkins,  who  was  married  to  a  Spanish 
wife,  and,  being  popularly  supposed  to  swing  a  large 
Spanish  vote  by  virtue  of  this  alliance,  was  treated 
with  marked  respect  by  the  autocrat  who  adminis 
tered  the  law  of  the  district. 

uHow'd  you  drop  onto  it?"  queried  another 
curiously. 

"Never  you  mind!  I  got  there  just  the  same!  " 
said  the  sheriff,  with  a  swagger,  remembering  his 
pledge  to  Orlando  Birdsall,  with  whom  he  had  been 
in  secret  conference  that  morning. 

"It's  curious  how  McCabe  stands  up  for  that 
fellow  Paul,"  remarked  Burnham,  a  grave,  middle- 
aged  deputy,  who  had  demonstrated  his  courage  in 
more  than  one  encounter  with  lawbreakers,  and 
who,  after  twenty  years  of  minor  service,  was  re 
puted  to  have  aspirations  towards  the  shrievalty. 
"McCabe  won't  hear  a  word  said  against  Paul, 
though  he  's  the  man  owes  him  a  grudge  if  any  one 
does,  — working  all  day  the  way  he  did  in  front  o' 
the  fire,  with  never  so  much  as  a  word  of  thanks 
for  it." 

"Let  up,  Burnham!  Who  cares  what  McCabe 
thinks  or  doesn't  think?  He  isn't  in  this  deal. 
There  's  some  of  the  fellow's  stuff,  boys." 

The  sheriff  passed  out  a  handful  of  half-dollars 
so  adroitly  coined  as  to  be  an  almost  perfect  imita 
tion  of  Uncle  Sam's  legal  tender.  The  men  caught 


282  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

eagerly  at  them,  passing  them  from  hand  to  hand, 
and  demonstrating  their  proficiency  in  the  art  of 
detecting  base  coinage  by  submitting  them  to  devi 
ous  tests,  biting  them,  rubbing  them  with  their 
fingers,  and  ringing  them  on  the  floor.  The  sight 
of  these  warmed  the  men  to  new  interest  in  the 
malefactor. 

"Pretty  good  work!  He  's  none  o'  your  common 
coin-scrapers  or  lead -fillers." 

"  Where  'd  you  get  'em,  sheriff?"  asked  Burn- 
ham. 

"I  got  'em  from  the  man  he  passed  'em  off  on, 
and  that 's  all  you  '11  know  till  the  proper  time  in 
court,"  said  the  superior  officer  witheringly. 

Burnham  subsided  amidst  the  scorn  of  his  more 
discreet  fellows. 

"Now  we've  got  work  on  hand,  and  it's  work 
that  won't  admit  of  no  fooling!  "  resumed  the  high 
functionary.  "We  've  got  to  go  cautious  about  it, 
and  not  scare  our  game,  or  he  '11  run  or  shoot.  A 
man  who  's  up  to  such  work  is  always  on  his  guard, 
for  he  knows  sooner  or  later  he  '11  be  took." 

"You  bet!  "  assented  an  admiring  deputy. 

"S'pose  he  's  alone  in  it?  "  ventured  Burnham. 

"I  don't  s'pose  anything.  All  I  know  is  what 
I  find  out.  Now  what  I  purpose  to  do  is  to  go  up 
Hidden  Creek  and  take  him,  dead  or  alive,  this 
very  afternoon." 

"That 's  the  talk!  "  said  Burnham  approvingly. 

"I  don't  need  your  opinion  of  my  qualifications, 
Joe  Burnham!  "  said  the  sheriff  disdainfully.  "It 's 
on  the  votes  of  my  constituency,  and  them  that 


ON  THE   TRACK  OF  A   COUNTERFEITER    283 

swings  'em,  I  depend  for  election,  not  on  your 
approval.  Now  we  'd  better  be  all  armed,  —  Win 
chesters  for  long  range  and  six-shooters  for  close 
quarters.  Who  knows  the  trails  up  that  way  best? 
I  ain't  been  up  there  myself  this  six  year." 

"It'd  be  a  daisy  place  to  get  cornered  in," 
chuckled  Watkins,  with  a  freedom  born  of  the  con 
sciousness  of  that  long  Spanish  vote  at  his  back. 
"A  regular  gorge,  where  Paul's  cabin  stands,  nar 
row,  with  steep  sides.  There  's  places  there,  if  I 
remember  the  gulch  rightly,  where  one  man  could 
wipe  out  an  army.  And  then  again  there  's  places 
where  a  good-sized  company  could  stow  theirselves 
away  for  weeks  and  see  everything  going  on  in  the 
canon,  and  no  one  be  the  wiser." 

"Then  that  last's  the  sort  of  spot  we  want  to 
make  for.  Who  's  the  man  can  show  the  way?" 

"The  best  man  to  pilot  us  up  there  is  Jim  Jones. 
He  knows  every  foot  of  the  hills  by  heart.  They 
ain't  a  squirrel-hole  or  fox -burrow  for  twenty  mile 
around  that  Jim  Jones  don't  know." 

"All  right,  boys!  We'll  pick  Jim  Jones  up 
down  to  the  depot  as  we  go  by.  He  never  misses 
seeing  the  train  come  in  when  he  's  in  town.  Keep 
close  mouths,  all  of  you.  There  's  a  reward  out, 
and  a  clean  capture  means  a  little  money  and  more 
glory  for  you  all." 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

THE   MAN   IN   THE   PRIVATE   CAR 

WHEN  the  afternoon  train  pulled  into  the  station 
that  day,  it  brought  behind  it  a  private  car  of  more 
than  ordinary  magnificence.  Such  arrivals  were  not 
uncommon  in  the  valley,  but  they  invariably  passed 
on  with  the  train.  On  this  occasion  the  excitement 
of  the  populace  was  aroused  when,  with  a  couple  of 
runs  of  the  engine  up  and  down  the  track,  the  car 
was  detached  on  a  side-switch. 

This  excitement  grew  apace  when  it  was  whis 
pered  about  that  the  owner  and  occupant  of  the 
private  car  was  none  other  than  the  Hon.  Jasper 
Harmon,  foremost  politician  and  silver-tongued  ora 
tor  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  a  power  in  the  most  august 
body  in  the  nation,  and  whp  had  lately  received 
prominent  mention  in  connection  with  the  highest 
office  in  the  gift  of  the  people. 

It  was  rumored  that  the  senator  had  come  up  to 
look  after  a  wavering  constituency  in  the  Vernal 
Hills.  That  so  great  a  man  should  condescend  to 
mend  his  own  political  fences  in  this  fertile  region 
invested  the  district  and  the  people  with  new  impor 
tance  in  the  latter's  eyes. 

The  train,  with  a  clangor  of  bell,  a  snort,  and  a 
whistle,  pulled  out,  but  the  crowd  about  the  depot 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PRIVATE  CAR          285 

mysteriously  increased  in  numbers  instead  of  dis 
persing. 

After  a  short  delay  the  distinguished  man,  his 
overcoat  on  his  arm,  descended  from  the  car  and 
fraternally  joined  the  crowd  on  the  platform. 

"Will  any  of  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me 
where  I  may  find  Armitage's  studio?"  he  asked 
pleasantly. 

The  sheriff,  who,  with  his  posse,  had  well-nigh 
forgotten  his  search  for  the  astute  Jim  Jones,  as 
sumed  the  responsibility  of  answering  this  inquiry, 
as  befitted  his  position  of  chief  dignitary  and  lead 
ing  politician. 

"  Well,  now,  you  get  me !  "  he  responded  cor 
dially.  "The  only  studios  we  got  here  is  Lane's 
and  Ormsby's.  But  if  you  '11  accept  my  advice,  sir, 
—  I'm  the  sheriff  of  this  county "  (Harmon  made 
his  acknowledgment  of  this  introduction  with  a 
graceful  bow),  —  "you'll  go  to  Ormsby.  Mind,  I 
ain't  saying  anything  against  Lane,  but  he  takes 
mostly  tintypes,  and  you  ought  to  'a'  seen  the  cabi 
nets  Ormsby  took  of  my  wife  and  children  last 
week.  Group  picture.  If  you  'd  like  to  look  at 
it,  my  house  's  only  a  step  away  "  — 

The  sheriff  had  his  object  in  pressing  this  invita 
tion.  For  a  considerable  time  past  he  had  enter 
tained  the  belief  that  with  his  knowledge  of  the 
language  he  would  make  a  shining  success  as  United 
States  Minister  to  Spain,  should  opportunity  put 
the  chance  in  his  way.  A  five  minutes'  walk  with 
this  man  of  power,  who  was  popularly  known  to 
carry  such  trifling  appointments  up  his  sleeve, 


286  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

might  in  all  probability  accomplish  his  dearly  cher 
ished  purpose. 

Senator  Harmon  received  this  information  and 
invitation  with  the  tact  for  which  he  was  celebrated. 

"  Unfortunately,  sir,  I  am  not  looking  for  a  pho 
tographer  to-day.  Mr.  Armitage  writes  me  that 
he  lives  a  little  out  of  town,  —  up  a  stream  called 
Escondido  Creek." 

"There  's  just  one  Escondido  Creek  around  here, 
and  there  's  just  one  man  lives  up  it,"  replied  the 
sheriff  oracularly.  "He  's  a  man  named  Paul. 
Farmer  by  trade !  "  pluming  himself  upon  his  cun 
ning  in  thus  diverting  the  crowd  from  any  suspicion 
they  might  entertain  as  to  his  party's  mission,  and 
casting  a  warning  look  at  his  men. 

"Farmer!  Pooh!"  sniffed  Barry,  the  grain- 
dealer,  who  had  joined  the  throng  and  could  not 
permit  this  statement  to  go  unchallenged  for  the 
credit  of  the  Vernal  Hills  agricultural  district. 
"He's  no  farmer!  He  came  to  me  asking  credit 
for  some  corn  he  wanted  to  plant  last  spring.  I 
mistrusted  him.  I  always  mistrust  these  city  men 
—  begging  your  pardon,  senator!  " 

"Oh,  don't  apologize  to  me.  I  was  brought  up 
on  a  farm,"  said  the  visitor. 

"An'  I  told  him  I  did  n't  believe  he  knew  enough 
about  farming  to  plant  a  kernel  of  corn  right  side 
up.  He  thought  pretty  hard  a  minute,  did  this 
here  Mr.  Paul,  and  then  he  said  o'  course  he  did! 
All  you  had  to  do  was  to  place  'em  all  carefully, 
pinted  end  down !  " 

All  the  company  roared,  the  Hon.  Jasper  Har- 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PRIVATE  CAR          287 

mon  among  the  rest.  One  voice  alone  was  raised 
in  Mr.  Paul's  defense,  and  this  voice  was  McCabe's. 

"All  the  same,  before  that  fire  came,  he  had  as 
pretty  a  field  of  corn  as  you  'd  find  in  all  the 
country ! " 

"Nonsense,  man!"  interrupted  a  waggish  old 
farmer.  "He  had  it  simply  because  no  amount  of 
wrong  farming  could  spoil  crops  this  year  in  the 
Vernal  Hills.  Why,  I  had  a  volunteer  pumpkin- 
vine  that  would  persist  in  growing  side  my  back 
door  last  summer.  My  wife  she  poured  scalding 
water  on  it,  and  dug  it  up  time  and  agin ;  actually 
salted  it  down  once,  an'  thought  she  had  it !  Well, 
we  went  down  camping  to  Point  Concepcion  for  a 
fortnight,  an'  when  we  got  back,  I  '11  be  durned  if 
the  pesky  thing  hadn't  clumb  the  kitchen  porch  an' 
stuck  a  shoot  through  the  top  of  a  kitchen  winder 
my  wife  left  open  to  keep  the  room  well  aired,  an' 
there,  square  over  the  stove,  a-hangin'  from  the  ceil 
ing,  was  a  couple  of  yellow  pumpkins  all  ready  for 
Thanksgiving  pies.  Must  have  weighed  fifty  pounds 
apiece.  Lucky  thing  we  got  home  when  we  did, 
for  if  one  o'  them  big  golden  apples  had  taken  a 
notion  to  drop  down  to  get  ready  for  roasting, 
our  stove  would  'a'  been  nothing  but  a  heap  o' 
scrap  iron." 

"Ah,  those  were  pumpkins  worth  growing!"  re 
marked  the  senator  genially.  "I  think  it  was  in 
one  of  your  pumpkin  patches  here,  along  the  foot 
of  the  Vernal  Hills,  where  that  pretty  little  romance 
transpired  that  I  heard  of  the  other  day." 

All  the   crowd    looked    blankly   at   the    senator, 


288  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

who  seemed  to  look  each  straight  in  the  eye,  with 
an  expression  of  the  truest  candor  and  earnest. 

"What  was  that?  Seems  to  me  I  heard  tell  of 
it,  but  I  disremember  just  this  minute,"  said  Barry, 
the  grain-dealer,  putting  on  a  reflective  scowl. 

"Oh,  the  story  runs  this  way,"  said  Harmon 
thoughtfully.  "A  young  railroad  man,  or  banker 
from  the  East,  or  foreign  potentate  —  I  really  for 
get  which  —  was  traveling  on  horseback  through  this 
valley,  when  he  turned  into  a  nicely  cultivated  field 
owned  by  one  of  your  most  prosperous  ranchmen. 
The  owner  came  to  meet  him,  and  the  young  man 
explained  that  he  had  heard  great  stories  of  the 
big  pumpkins  raised  in  this  locality,  and  wished  to 
verify  them  for  himself.  '  Is  it  actually  true,'  he 
asked,  '  that  you  raise  pumpkins  around  here  weigh 
ing  as  much  as  a  hundred  and  seventy  pounds  ? ' 

" '  Now,  see  here,  young  man, '  said  the  farmer, 
'  I  'm  not  one  who  wants  to  brag  of  the  products 
of  the  country,  but  seeing  's  believing,  and  you  just 
come  out  to  my  pumpkin  patch  and  take  a  look 
'round  for  yourself.* 

"So  they  both  started  off  to  the  pumpkin-field, 
stopping  an  instant  at  the  house  for  the  ranch 
man  to  get  on  his  best  hat  and  to  whisper  a  word 
to  his  wife.  They  reached  the  field  by  a  roundabout 
way,  and  found  a  nice  bit  of  bottom  land,  gentle 
men,  which  kept  its  moisture  all  summer,  and  crops 
growing  all  the  fall;  and  the  stranger  was  so  carried 
away  by  the  glorious  sight  before  him  that  he  gasped 
with  amazement,  and  professed  himself  more  than 
satisfied  with  the  proof  of  the  fairy  tales  he  had 
heard. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PRIVATE   CAR          289 

'"  They  're  fair-sized,  — good  for  a  prize  at  most 
any  Eastern  county  fair,  every  last  one  of  'em. 
Out  here  competition's  sharper,'  said  the  farmer, 
drawing  out  his  knife  and  pruning  an  apple-tree. 
'  But  size  ain't  all  there  is  to  them  pumpkins.  Do 
you  know  '  —  dropping  his  voice  to  a  mysterious 
whisper  — '  some  of  them  big  yellow  ones,  when 
we  cut  'em  open,  have  pretty  girls  inside ! ' 

"'  You  don't  say! '  cried  the  stranger,  very  much 
startled,  and  not  knowing  whether  to  think  the  old 
man  a  liar  or  a  lunatic. 

" '  Yes,  sir, '  the  old  farmer  assured  him.  '  Now 
there  's  that  big  golden  fellow  near  the  tall  almond- 
tree.  I  don't  know  whether  he  '11  pan  out  one  or 
not,  but  he  looks  promisin'.  You  just  watch  while 
I  cut  him  open ! ' 

"He  made  a  slit  around  the  stem  end  of  the 
pumpkin,  which  happened  to  be  on  top,  and  lifted 
it  off,  and  out  stepped  a  pretty  red -cheeked,  black- 
eyed  girl, —  the  ranchman's  eldest  daughter.  The 
story  goes  that  the  young  nabob  was  so  entranced 
that  he  married  the  girl  next  week." 

A  general  guffaw  followed,  in  the  midst  of  which 
the  waggish  old  ranchman  stepped  forward,  and, 
crooking  his  finger  warningly  at  the  senator,  said 
in  a  stage  whisper :  — 

"Now,  look  here,  Senator  Harmon!  It 's  a  good 
story,  —  a  blamed  good  story !  and  it 's  all  right 
your  telling  it  here,  for  we  're  a  company  of  men. 
But  don't  you  go  telling  it  round  over  the  country, 
or  all  our  girls  '11  go  climbing  into  pumpkins,  and 
we  shan't  have  ary  one  left  to  feed  our  stock!  " 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

ROB'S   POLITICAL   CONVERSION 

"BuT  this  isn't  getting  on  in  my  errand  up 
here,"  resumed  the  senator,  when  the  crowd  had 
its  laugh  out.  "Is  it  possible  that  none  of  you  can 
tell  me  where  I  can  find  Armitage?  A  man  like 
him  can't  possibly  have  lived  among  you  three  years 
and  kept  his  light  hid  under  a  bushel.  Armitage, 
the  famous  painter,  who  stands  at  the  head  of 
American  landscape  artists !  Armitage,  who  stripped 
the  Parisian  schools  of  their  medals  when  he  was 
a  beardless  boy!  Time  's  getting  on,"  he  said,  con 
sulting  his  watch;  "I  shall  be  greatly  disappointed 
if  I  can't  find  Armitage  to-night." 

Rob,  who  had,  to  his  discomfiture,  failed  to  dis 
cover  any  trace  of  Mr.  Paul's  expected  guest,  a 
couple  of  villagers  and  one  lone  commercial  traveler 
having  been  the  only  passengers  to  leave  the  train, 
had  been  one  of  the  enthralled  listeners  to  the  sena 
tor's  genial  story -telling.  He  heard  this  speech 
with  his  head  in  a  whirl.  A  sudden  recollection 
engulfed  him.  When  parting  with  Fowler  back 
in  the  mountains,  nearly  a  year  before,  upon  the 
occasion  of  his  visit  to  the  surveyors'  camp,  the 
chief  had  called  after  him :  — 

"Be  sure  to  give  my  compliments  to  Armitage, 


ROB'S  POLITICAL  CONVERSION  291 

and  ask  him  to  take  care  of  any  of  the  boys  I  may 
send  down ! " 

"Armitage!  "  Rob  had  -repeated,  looking  blankly 
at  the  young  surveyor,  —  "Armitage !  Who  's  he ?  " 

"Hang  it.!  'I  meant  to  say  Mr.  Paul.  Names 
are  such  confounded  things.  I  'm  always  getting 
them  mixed  in  these  high  altitudes,"  was  Fowler's 
naive  apology,  and  Rob  had  ridden  away,  never 
giving  the  matter  a  second  thought  till  now. 

He  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd,  his  heart 
throbbing  like  a  drum. 

"Beg  your  pardon,  sir!  I  think  I  know  the 
gentleman  you  're  looking  for.  He  was  expecting 
somebody  on  the  train  to-day." 

"Then  you're  my  man!"  exclaimed  the  senator 
heartily.  "Can  you  show  me  the  way  up  there  this 
afternoon?  Eh,  going  up  there  yourself?  Can 
give  me  a  seat  in  your  cart?  That 's  capital !  Well, 
Isaiah,"  to  his  negro  servant,  who  had  come  for 
ward  for  parting  orders,  "  look  for  me  when  I  come, 
and  keep  the  boys  straight  while  I  'm  gone." 

Saying  which,  the  visitor  swung  himself  into  the 
cart  by  Rob's  side,  and  the  two  rode  off  together 
to  the  wonder  and  surprise  of  the  crowd. 

"If  there  is  any  way  of  traveling  I  like  more 
than  another,  it  is  jaunting  in  one  of  these  little 
carts  over  a  country  road,"  declared  the  senator,  as 
the  sorrel  mare  sped  through  the  village  and  past 
orchards  with  green  leaves  still  clinging  to  branches 
where  spring  buds  were  swelling. 

This  speech  was  an  immense  relief  to  Rob,  who 
had  been  secretly  very  much  embarrassed  at  having 


292  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

to  invite  so  celebrated  a  man  to  take  a  seat  in  so 
shabby  and  insignificant  a  vehicle ;  for  the  cart  had 
long  since  lost  its  polish  and  gloss,  thumping  over 
rough  roads  in  rain  and  sunshine,  and  presented  a 
decidedly  weather-beaten  appearance. 

Now  Rob,  all  of  whose  political  proclivities  and 
family  traditions  pointed  to  alliance  with  a  very 
different  party  from  that  which  Senator  Harmon 
so  ably  represented,  was  destined  to  have  the  party 
affiliations  of  his  life  changed  in  the  course  of  a 
single  hour's  ride. 

"Live  on  a  farm,  eh?  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  used 
to  live  on  a  farm  in  western  New  York; "  and  the 
senator  began  a  story  of  simple  experience,  which 
moved  the  boy  as  no  tale  of  romance  he  had  ever 
read  had  power  to  do. 

Hitherto  Rob  had  regarded  the  party  which  Mr. 
Harmon  represented,  and  which  chanced  to  be  the 
party  in  power,  as  a  mere  aggregation  of  rogues 
and  tricksters,  its  motive  plunder,  its  policy  knav 
ery.  But  listening  to  the  honorable  orator's  plea 
sant  little  talk  at  the  station,  he  had  already  begun 
to  modify  his  previous  convictions.  Had  he  but 
known  it,  his  political  fate  was  sealed. 

When  Senator  Harmon  got  to  the  point  of  mak 
ing  a  confidence  about  "When  I  was  a  boy  on  a 
farm,"  he  was  irresistible.  Vast  audiences  had 
thrilled  under  his  frank  accounts  of  his  boyhood 
life,  wavering  voters  had  been  conciliated,  rabid 
enemies  discomfited.  Before  Rob  had  reached  the 
county  highway,  he  was  wondering  whether  men, 
after  all,  were  not  of  much  more  importance  than 


ROB'S   POLITICAL   CONVERSION  293 

parties  or  political  principles.  Before  they  had 
turned  off  into  the  hill  road,  he  had  decided  that  the 
sentiments  of  Senator  Harmon  were  worth  adopt 
ing  without  question.  Long  before  they  reached 
the  mesa,  he  was  eagerly  reckoning  the  days  and 
months  that  would  elapse  before  his  name  would 
be  on  the  great  register,  and  he  could  proudly 
follow  the  senator  as  his  standard-bearer,  and  cast 
his  vote  for  him  and  his  party. 

Nor  did  Mr.  Harmon  confine  the  conversation  to 
himself.  As  they  approached  the  hills,  his  obser 
vant  eye  detected  signs  of  the  scourge  which  had 
swept  down  their  slopes  a  few  weeks  previous,  and 
little  by  little  he  drew  from  Rob  a  modest  account 
of  his  own  part  in  the  stern  fight  that  had  been 
waged  to  check  it.  He  saw  the  marks  on  the  boy's 
hands  and  face,  and  said  with  a  sincerity  of  feeling 
that  no  man  could  have  affected :  — 

"Honorable  scars,  my  boy.  Be  proud  of  them 
to  the  end  of  your  days.  Not  half  the  heroes  are 
found  at  the  battle  front." 

A  man  of  broad  and  varied  tastes,  Harmon  was 
keenly  alive  to  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  as  they 
began  to  climb  the  hills,  and  every  turn  of  the  road 
disclosed  some  new  and  charming  view.  His  simple, 
appreciative  comments  disclosed  a  strong  vein  of 
sentiment  that  underlaid  a  character  at  once  bold 
and  diplomatic,  aggressive  and  tactful.  As  they 
came  out  upon  the  edge  of  the  mesa  overlooking 
the  windings  of  Escondido  Creek,  Rob  pointed  out 
the  quaint  cabin,  looking  like  some  mimic  fortress,' 
with  massive  breastwork  of  stone  and  great  trees 


294  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

doing  sentinel  duty  beside  it,  which  formed  Mr. 
Paul's  habitation. 

"Armitage  has  chosen  a  charming  retreat!  "  cried 
the  senator,  with  enthusiasm.  "And  you  live  in 
the  cottage  up  there  in  the  tree?  What  an  original 
idea,  and  what  a  picture  it  makes !  You  're  highly 
favored,  my  boy,  in  having  a  man  of  Armitage 's 
culture  for  a  friend  and  neighbor.  No  one  can 
measure  the  influence  of  refined  associations." 

Now  Rob,  who  every  little  while  was  overcome 
with  desperate  uncertainty  as  to  whether  he  might 
not  have  made  a  stupendous  mistake  in  seizing  upon 
this  gentleman  as  Mr.  Paul's  expected  friend,  was 
tortured  with  a  succession  of  grotesque  pictures  at 
the  great  man's  every  reference  to  Armitage.  The 
picture  that  now  arose  before  his  mind's  eye  was 
of  Mr.  Paul  in  blue  overalls  and  jumper,  plodding 
along  the  moist  furrows  with  bent  shoulders,  hold 
ing  the  ploughshare  to  its  course,  while  he,  Rob, 
followed  after,  dropping  grain.  Again,  he  recalled 
him  exhausted,  his  face  dripping  perspiration,  throw 
ing  himself  down  in  the  shade  of  tree  or  bush  to 
snatch  a  frugal  luncheon. 

"Pity  he  should  bury  himself  up  here.  Society 
can  ill  spare  Armitage.  He 's  one  of  the  most 
delightful  fellows  I  ever  knew." 

The  picture  that  Rob  saw  now  was  of  Mr.  Paul 
at  the  supper-board,  too  tired  to  eat,  but  disguising 
his  lack  of  appetite  with  gay  speech  and  merry 
anecdote.  Something  swelled  in  Rob's  throat.  He 
did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry.  Always 
a  gentleman ;  always  polished  of  manner  and  cour- 


ROB'S   POLITICAL   CONVERSION  295 

teous  of  speech,  patient  and  forbearing  under  every 
trial  and  discouragement.  And  instead  of  the  poor 
and  luckless  farmer  Rob  had  imagined  him,  could 
he  be  Armitage,  the  celebrated  artist,  one  of  the 
great  men  of  the  earth?  What  did  it  all  mean? 
The  problem  was  too  much  for  the  boy's  brain. 

Amy's  predictions  were  already  on  their  way  to 
fulfillment,  and  a  cloak  of  green,  nourished  by  new 
elements  in  the  soil,  covered  the  ground  below  the 
cottage,  and  the  delicate  tracery  of  vines  was  be 
ginning  to  show  against  the  gnarled  oaks.  Most 
marvelous  of  all,  the  oaks  themselves,  with  boles  still 
black  and  charred,  were  putting  forth  fresh  leaves. 

Under  them  stood  a  slight  girlish  figure  clad  in 
short  denim  gown  and  rubber  boots,  directing  the 
stream  from  a  hose  upon  the  green  carpet. 

Senator  Harmon  looked  at  her  long  and  keenly, 
then  over  his  face  came  a  look  of  surprised  recog 
nition  as  he  lifted  his  hat  in  grave  courtesy,  while 
Rob,  with  a  nod  and  wave  of  his  hand,  drove  on. 

In  the  canon  the  ravages  of  the  fire  were  more 
noticeable,  but  nature  was  already  covering  the 
scars,  and  an  early  rain  had  freshened  the  land 
scape,  effacing  the  uglier  traces  of  the  fire-fiend's 
work.  The  cabin,  now  silhouetted  against  the  rich 
greens  of  the  untouched  hillside  beyond,  looked 
mediaeval  in  its  simplicity,  but  the  place  had  a 
deserted  air. 

"You  are  sure  Armitage  is  expecting  me?  I 
wouldn't  intrude  upon  him  for  the  world,  if  he's 
occupied,"  said  the  senator,  with  sudden  misgiving. 

"He  's  looking  for  you,"  said  Rob  doggedly,  de- 


296  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

termined  to  see  his  blunder,  if  blunder  it  be,  to  the 
bitter  end.  Again  a  queer  reminiscence  assailed 
him.  He  remembered  the  time  when  he  had  found 
fault  with  Mr.  Paul's  furrows,  insisting  that  they 
were  neither  straight  nor  true.  And  Mr.  Paul, 
resigning  the  task  to  him  and  meekly  accepting  his 
seed-apron  in  exchange,  had  tramped  behind  him, 
and,  looking  back  when  the  field  was  traversed,  had 
acknowledged  with  humility  that  the  boy's  furrow 
was  much  more  creditable  than  his  own.  Rob  had 
been  very  gracious  that  time,  and  had  kindly  under 
taken  to  show  Mr.  Paul  the  cause  of  his  superior 
work,  directing  him  how  to  hold  the  plough-handles, 
and  just  how  to  bear  down  upon  them  when  the 
implement  struck  against  a  rock  or  root.  And  Mr. 
Paul  had  certainly  profited  by  his  teaching,  and 
been  a  much  better  ploughman  thereafter. 

Rob  had  an  hysterical  impulse  to  laugh,  as  he 
wondered  what  the  world  would  think  if  it  could 
know  that  he  had  actually  trained  Mr.  Armitage  — 
Armitage,  the  great  landscape  painter !  —  to  plough 
straight  furrows.  Oh,  the  absurdity,  the  towering 
impertinence  of  it! 

The  door  of  the  cabin  opened,  and  Mr.  Paul 
appeared.  Harmon  sprang  from  the  cart  and  has 
tened  up  the  steps. 

"Armitage!     My  dear  fellow,  how  are  you!  " 

"It  was  good  of  you  to  come  all  the  way  up  here, 
Harmon ! " 

"I  'd  do  it  any  day  to  see  you.  What  have  you 
been  doing  all  this  time  ?  All  the  world  has  been 
wondering  where  you  have  been  hiding." 


ROB'S  POLITICAL  CONVERSION  297 

The  two  men  passed  into  the  house,  talking  fast 
and  eagerly,  with  the  freedom  and  confidence  of 
old  friends.  A  few  minutes  later  the  door  opened 
and  Mr.  Paul  came  down  the  steps,  stopping  short 
as  he  saw  Rob. 

"Rob,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I'd  completely  for 
gotten  you.  Let  me  tie  the  horse  to  a  tree  while 
you  run  up  to  the  cottage  and  bring  Amy.  Say 
to  her  that  I  wish  her  to  be  present  at  the  lifting 
of  the  black  curtain." 

Rob  never  knew  how  he  covered  the  ground  lying 
between  cabin  and  cottage.  Flushed  and  breathless 
he  burst  upon  his  sister,  who,  embarrassed  at  her 
recent  encounter,  was  standing  with  folded  arms 
resting  on  a  window-sill  and  looking  out  upon  the 
distant  sea. 

"Amy!"  he  cried,  "come  at  once!  Mr.  Paul 
wants  you.  And  he  is  n't  Mr.  Paul  at  all,  but  he  's 
Armitage,  the  famous  painter,  Senator  Harmon's 
friend." 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

A  CHAPTER   OF  REVELATIONS 

"ARMITAGE,  who  is  that  boy?" 

"Robert  Judith." 

"Judith.  I  thought  so.  Has  his  father's  brow 
and  eyes.  You  remember  Tom  Judith?  Used  to 
be  on  the  Stock  Board.  Shot  himself  when  the 
crash  in  Consolidated  Virginia  came.  The  shock 
killed  his  wife.  But  tell  me,  how  in  the  name  of 
common  sense  does  Amy  Judith  happen  to  be  up 
here?" 

"Amy  Judith?" 

"Yes,  Amy  Judith.  I  never  forget  a  face.  I 
knew  her  the  moment  I  saw  her,  but,  coming  upon 
that  exquisite  little  girl  in  a  short  gown  and  rubber 
boots,  irrigating  a  berry  patch,  I  confess  I  was  posed 
for  a  moment." 

"Amy  Judith?  She  —  why,  she 's  homesteading 
government  land,"  was  the  embarrassed  reply. 

"Homesteading!  You  must  be  mistaken,  Armi- 
tage." 

"I  have  pretty  good  reason  to  be  sure  of  it," 
replied  the  young  man  ruefully. 

"It's  inconceivable!  That  gifted  little  being! 
You  're  quite  sure,  Armitage,  that  your  head  's  level 
and  I  haven't  a  bee  in  my  bonnet?  Amy  Judith 


A  CHAPTER  OF  REVELATIONS  299 

turned  ranchwoman,  and  trying  to  establish  a  title 
to  a  quarter  section  of  government  land !  Wonders 
will  never  cease." 

Somehow  this  speech  inspired  the  younger  man 
with  a  wretched  sense  of  discomfort. 

"Miss  Judith  is  certainly  a  charming  woman, 
but  I  don't  know  that  I  should  characterize  her  as 
'  gifted.'  So  you  know  her,  Harmon?" 

"Know  her!  Man  alive!  I  never  had  the  plea 
sure  of  a  personal  acquaintance  with  her,  but  who 
in  San  Francisco  did  n't  know  her?  " 

"I  didn't.  I  never  heard  of  her  till  I  came  up 
here,  Harmon.  Isn't  there  some  mistake?" 

"  Mistake !  You  pretend  to  say  you  never  heard 
of  Amy  Judith?  Confound  you,  Armitage!  You 
artists  are  always  so  clannish,  you  don't  realize 
there  's  a  world  outside  your  set.  Why,  man,  all 
San  Francisco  was  raving  over  Amy  Judith's  voice 
three  years  ago.  I  heard  her  at  a  private  recital 
given  before  the  Bohemian  Club  the  night  before  I 
left  for  Japan.  Great  Scott,  how  she  sang  !  Her 
voice  was  surpassingly  pure  and  sweet,  and  of  phe 
nomenal  range.  They  called  her  '  the  coming  Patti. ' 
She  was  to  make  her  first  public  appearance  the 
following  week.  I  don't  keep  up  with  such  matters 
myself,  but  I  supposed  she  'd  sung  her  way  to  fame 
and  fortune  long  ago." 

"  Hush !     She  's  coming. " 

On  their  way  to  Mr.  Paul's  cabin  Rob's  attention 
was  attracted  by  the  peculiar  actions  of  the  mastiff, 
who  accompanied  them,  and  who  was  evidently 
very  much  excited  by  the  presence  of  some  wild 


300  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

beast  somewhere  in  the  canon,  whose  approach  his 
keen  scfint  had  detected.  Hercules  barked  furi 
ously,  and  made  savage  dashes  into  the  thick  growth 
of  chaparral  beyond  the  cabin,  returning  from  these 
sorties,  his  dark  eyes  eloquent  with  appeal. 

"Quiet,  Hercules!"  commanded  his  young  mas 
ter.  "What  do  you  care  if  a  wildcat  or  badger  is 
sneaking  down  to  rob  some  ranchman's  hen-roost 
to-night?  They  're  not  your  chickens,  sir!  " 

But  these  remonstrances  had  no  effect  on  the 
animal,  who  continued  to  make  fiercer  attacks  upon 
the  thickets,  gradually  changing  the  direction  of 
his  skirmishes  further  and  further  up  the  gulch. 

"If  I  had  time,  I  'd  come  and  see  what  it  is,  old 
boy.  But  just  now  I  'd  advise  you  to  let  up  on 
your  chase." 

Rob's  advice  was  wiser  than  he  knew.  He  little 
guessed  that  more  than  once,  when  Hercules  barked 
so  loudly  in  the  chaparral,  the  dog  was  looking 
down  the  barrel  of  a  Winchester,  loaded  and  cocked. 

Amy  Judith  had  changed  her  gardening-gown  for 
a  plain  white  mull  without  garniture  or  ornament, 
but  no  queen  ever  carried  her  crown  with  a  more 
regal  bearing  than  her  head  wore  its  coronet  of  fair 
braids.  Yet  in  the  deep-blue  eyes  was  a  look  that 
challenged  Paul  Armitage  to  account  for  his  decep 
tion. 

"Mr.  Harmon,  Miss  Judith!  Rob,  you  need  no 
introduction." 

Senator  Harmon  took  her  hand  with  a  pleasant 
little  speech.  The  girl  was  very  quiet  and  subdued. 
All  her  ready  wit  and  sprightliness  seemed  to  have 


A   CHAPTER  OF  REVELATIONS  301 

deserted  her,  and  not  even  the  stranger's  mag 
netic  conversation  could  arouse  her  to  any  animation. 

"Miss  Amy,  I  wanted  you  to  be  present  at  the 
lifting  of  the  black  curtain,"  said  Armitage  lightly. 
Then,  to  Harmon :  — 

"I've  been  hoping  the  sun  might  come  out  and 
give  us  better  light.  It 's  a  pity,  when  you  've  trav 
eled  so  far  to  see  it,  Harmon,  that  we  should  have 
this  dull,  overcast  day  and  obscure  atmosphere. 
The  fog  seems  to  have  got  into  the  room." 

His  friend  eyed  Armitage  curiously.  In  the 
course  of  his  life  he  had  many  times  encountered 
that  humility  which  laments  the  quality  of  fare  or 
accommodation  which  is  placed  before  a  guest,  but 
it  struck  him  that  this  was  an  entirely  new  phase 
of  hospitality  which  deprecated  the  quality  of  its 
sunlight. 

Armitage  led  the  way  to  the  further  end  of  the 
apartment  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  heavy  draperies. 

."Miss  Amy  first,  if  you  don't  mind,  Harmon." 

With  a  quick  movement  of  his  hand  he  swept 
aside  the  black  curtain,  and  the  four  found  them 
selves  gazing  into  the  mysterious  space  that  lay 
beyond. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 
THE  SHERIFF  MEETS   HIS  WATERLOO 

THE  sheriff  and  his  posse,  traveling  for  the  most 
part  on  foot  and  by  many  and  devious  routes,  as 
became  brave  men  who  had  atn  important  capture 
in  prospect  and  must  needs  approach  it  warily,  at 
last  reached  a  point  in  the  east  arm  of  the  gulch 
below  Mr.  Paul's  cabin,  and  stopped  to  hold  a  coun 
cil  of  war. 

"If  he  sees  us  coming,  he'll  know  everything's 
up,  and  most  likely  fire.  There  's  no  use  throw 
ing  our  lives  away.  No  more  do  we  want  to  kill 
him.  He  's  worth  more  alive  than  dead,"  said  the 
sheriff.  "  Jim  Jones,  you  know  the  country  up  here 
better  'n  I  do.  What 's  your  idea  of  how  to  go  to 
work?  " 

"Well  now,  Mr.  Sheriff,  if  you  reely  want  my 
idee,  and  ain't  got  no  better  man  to  advise  you," 
replied  Jim  Jones,  exhibiting  a  becoming  modesty 
over  this  distinction  that  commended  him  to  all  his 
hearers,  "I  say  we  'd  better  climb  up  .the  side  hill 
there  to  that  steep  place  the  fire  missed,  —  I  '11  tell 
you  when  we  reach  it,  —  an'  then  lay  low  and  creep 
through  the  chaparral  till  we  git  round  yon,  where 
there  's  neyther  brush  nor  yit  trees  in  the  way,  and 
I  can  level  my  glass  on  the  windows  an'  see  the  lay 


THE  SHERIFF  MEETS  HIS  WATERLOO     303 

of  the  land  before  we  go  down,  which  last  I  'd  do 
at  nightfall,  sure,  and  no  sooner!  " 

The  glass  Jim  alluded  to  was  a  fine  field-glass 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  carry  with  him  on  his 
mountain  trips,  and  which  swung  from  a  strap  over 
his  shoulder. 

The  party  cautiously  advanced  under  cover  of 
the  trees,  until  Jim  gave  the  signal  to  climb  the 
hillside,  an  ascent  accomplished  with  difficulty,  for 
the  slope  was  nearly  vertical,  and  the  substratum 
of  rock  but  thinly  veneered  with  a  slippery  coating 
of  soil  and  short  deer-grass,  which  afforded  an 
uncertain  foothold,  but  they  at  length  halted  for 
further  orders,  staying  themselves  by  clutching  at 
the  brush  and  weeds. 

"It  ought  to  be  along  here,  but  it  ain.'t.  Must 
be  a  little  higher.  Here  it  is,"  said  Jim  Jones. 
"It  ain't  much  of  a  trail.  I  'm  not  settled  myself 
whether"  it 's  one  of  the  old  Indian  paths,  grown 
over,  or  jest  a  mountain  lion  or  coyote  path.  But 
it  goes  through  all  right.  I  followed  fox  tracks 
all  the  way  up  it  one  day  last  spring." 

The  stouter  members  of  the  company  looked 
doubtfully  at  the  slender  parting  in  the  chaparral, 
roofed  over  with  tightly  interlaced  green  boughs. 
The  brush  on  either  side  seemed  impenetrable. 

"No  danger  o'  going  astray !  "  chuckled  Watkins. 

At  the  command  of  their  superior  officer,  the 
men  plunged  into  this  burrow,  Burnham  leading 
and  the  others  following  in  single  file,  the  sheriff 
near  the  rear  of  the  procession,  with  Jim  Jones  close 
behind  him. 


304  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

Now  the  sheriff  of  the  Vernal  Hills  district,  al 
beit  a  very  efficient  and  democratic  officer,  as  may 
be  seen  by  this  personal  participation  in  the  perils 
of  the  execution  of  the  law,  was  a  gentleman  of 
Falstaffian  proportions,  and  it  chanced  that  midway 
in  the  course  of  this  painful  journey  he  stuck  fast 
between  a  projecting  root,  on  the  one  hand,  and  a 
jutting  ledge,  on  the  other. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  wretched 
ness  of  the  shrievalty's  body,  or  the  embarrassment 
of  its  mind,  in  this  unparalleled  predicament.  The 
man  in  advance  could  by  no  possibility  turn  around 
to  come  to  his  chief's  relief,  and  the  man  behind 
had  but  limited  opportunity  to  assist  in  the  big 
man's  rescue.  To  add  to  the  horrors  of  the  situa 
tion,  some  great  tawny  beast,  with  the  roar  of  an 
African  lion,  was  darting  into  the  chaparral  beside 
him,  threatening  the  helpless  man  with  instant  an 
nihilation. 

"Draw  a  bead  on  him,  Bob!  He  's  coming 
straight  at  me.  I  can  see  his  dripping  fangs. 
Can't  you  break  away  that  root,  Jim  Jones?  A 
pretty  pickle  you  've  got  me  in,  have  n't  you !  Oh, 
give  me  my  hands  where  my  legs  are,  and  I  'd  be 
out  of  this  fix  in  a  jiffy!  " 

"If  I  had  a  drill  and  a  pinch  of  giant  powder 
now,"  said  Jim  Jones  slowly,  "I  'd  make  a  hole  in 
this  rock  and  blow  it  to  smithereens  before  you 
could  say  Jack  Robinson." 

"Much  good  it  'd  do  me!  "  groaned  the  sheriff. 

Jim  considered  the  situation  from  a  scientific 
point  of  view. 


THE  SHERIFF  MEETS   HIS   WATERLOO     305 

"Well,  now,  it  seems  to  me,  you  got  in  this  place 
goin'  for'ards.  And  I  argy  that  what 's  done  can 
always  be  undone,  if  you  go  sensible  about  it. 
You  've  pulled  ahead,  an'  pulled  ahead,  till  you  've 
wedged  yourself  like  a  cork  in  a  bottle.  Wherefore 
we  '11  just  try  the  contrary.  Now  I  '11  lay  hold  of 
your  legs,  an'  you  back  for  all  you  're  worth! " 

In  his  zeal  to  extricate  himself  from  his  unhappy 
dilemma,  the  sheriff  exceeded  his  instructions.  He 
kicked  out  violently  with  one  leg,  narrowly  missing 
Jim  Jones's  right  eye,  and  striking  the  latter 's 
precious  field-glass  a  blow  with  his  hob-nailed  boot 
that  discounted  an  ostrich's  kick. 

"Now  you  've  done  it.  Broke  one  o'  my  lenses, 
da-a-arn  you!"  howled  Jim  Jones,  as  the  sheriff, 
made  free  by  this  Herculean  effort,  contrived  to 
face  him  in  a  sitting  posture.  Before  so  great  a 
catastrophe  the  shrievalty  was  mute. 

"  The  best  glass  ever  made  in  Frisco !  I  would  n't 
ha'  taken  two  hundred  dollars  for  it,"  Jim  went 
on,  examining  the  injured  instrument.  Then,  in 
a  sudden  burst  of  wrath :  — 

"What  do  you  mean,  a-throwing  up  your  heels 
that  away  like  a  yearling  colt?  You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  o'  yourself.  Sheriff  o'  this  county,  too !  " 

"I  did  n't  mean  to,  Jim,"  said  the  sheriff  humbly. 
"I  —  I  '11  get  you  a  better  one !  " 

" Where  '11  you  get  it?  In  the  Vernal  Hills, 
eh?" 

"Jim,  I  '11  give  you  half  my  part  of  the  reward  — 
share  an'  share  alike,  when  we  get  this  counterfeiter 
in  jail.  I  've  got  to  pay  the  other  men,  but  I  '11 


306  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

cut  them  down  to  the  lowest  notch  an'  go  snacks 
with  you." 

"I  s'pose  it 's  the  best  I  can  do,  but  I  'd  a  heap 
rather  have  my  field-glass,"  grumbled  Jim  sulkily. 
"Well,  git  along  now,  and  make  time!  And  don't 
be  gittin'  stuck  in  the  next  thornbush  you  come 
to,  or  I  '11  leave  you  there  for  the  buzzards  to 
pick!" 

With  scratched  faces,  grimy  and  ragged  garments, 
and  damaged  tempers,  the  party  finally  emerged  in 
the  clearing.  Jim  Jones  was  „  still  soured  by  the 
accident  that  had  befallen  his  glass. 

"Ain't  no  use  tryin'  to  see  with  one  glass.  Ain't 
no  focus  to  it!  "  he  grumbled,  vainly  trying  to  level 
his  one  remaining  lens  and  fix  a  single  optic  on  the 
row  of  windows  fronting  them  in  the  little  cabin. 
"All  I  can  see,  they 's  two  men  in  the  room,  an' 
they  ain't  doin'  a  blamed  thing  but  standin'  still! 
Darn  'em!" 

"What's  tljat  shinin'  thing  On  the  north  roof? 
Glass!  I  can  see  that  much  with  my  naked  eye," 
said  Burnham. 

"Then  that  means  a  light  in  the  roof  of  the  part 
the  black  curtain  shuts  off !  " 

"You're  right,  boys!  That's  his  little  work 
shop  where  he  makes  the  stuff!  " 

"Tell  you.  what,  Jim  Jones,"  said  the  sheriff 
propitiatingly,  "knowin'  the  lay  of  the  land,  sup 
pose  you  slide  down  there  an'  try  an'  see  what 's 
goin'  on  through  the  windows." 

"  I ' ve  a  better  idee  'n  that,  sheriff.  You  see 
how  nigh  that  ledge  o'  rock  is  to  the  roof.  I  '11 


THE  SHERIFF  MEETS   HIS   WATERLOO      307 

take  off  my  shoes,  an'  git  on  the  roof,  an'  take  a 
squint  at  the  whole  blame  outfit." 

This  valiant  proposal  was  hailed  with  general 
approval. 

"Mind,  you  fire  your  six-shooter  if  you're  in 
trouble,  or  want  we  should  close  in !  "  suggested  the 
sheriff.  Jim  Jones  forthwith  departed,  while  the 
remainder  of  the  posse,  painfully  conscious  that 
their  exposed  position  might  make  them  a  target 
for  a  shot  from  the  desperate  occupant  of  the  cabin, 
should  they  be  detected,  strove  to  efface  themselves 
from  observation  by  identifying  themselves  with  the 
ledge  in  every  imaginable  cramped  attitude,  while 
they  patiently  awaited  the  result  of  Jim  Jones's 
reconnoissance. 

The  scout  felt  himself  peculiarly  favored  on  this 
expedition  when  he  found  that  the  great  dog,  who 
had  been  angrily  watching  and  loudly  announcing 
the  progress  of  the  party  through  the  brush,  had 
temporarily  subsided.  He  worked  his  way,  unob 
served,  to  the  vicinity  of  the  cabin,  and  gained  a 
position  on  the  hillside  where  Mr.  Paul  had  chiseled 
out  his  stone  chimney,  making  the  roof  of  easy 
access.  Gaining  this  with  the  stealth  and  agility 
of  a  cat,  the  scout  stood  erect  to  take  observations, 
and  was  startled  to  perceive  Miss  Judith  and  her 
brother  coming  together  down  the  road  and  making 
a  straight  course  for  the  cabin. 

Now  by  the  same  token  that  he  detested  Mr. 
Paul,  Jim  Jones  cherished  a  great  admiration  for 
Miss  Judith,  and  he  immediately  laid  flat  against 
the  cabin  roof,  thanking  his  lucky  stars  that  he  had 


308  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

seen  the  young  lady  in  time,  and  in  the  same  breath 
anathematizing  his  ill  luck  for  setting  this  particular 
day  and  hour  for  the  apprehension  of  the  law 
breaker. 

He  heard  Mr.  Paul's  hearty  greeting,  a  door 
which  opened  and  shut,  and  then  the  murmur  of 
voices,  which  appeared  to  gradually  move  towards 
the  north  end  of  the  house,  until  he  could  plainly 
distinguish  them  directly  beneath  that  portion  of 
the  roof  on  which  he  was  lying.  It  is  to  be  feared 
that  it  was  a  consuming  curiosity,  rather  than  any 
sense  of  good  faith  to  the  mission  upon  which  he 
had  been  dispatched,  which  led  him  to  draw  him 
self,  inch  by  inch,  like  a  writhing  serpent,  along 
the  ridgepole  to  where  the  skylight  glittered  in  the 
sunshine. 

This  point  at  length  gained,  he  peered  cautiously 
over  the  edge  of  the  panes  and  dimly  saw  Mr.  Paul, 
Miss  Judith,  and  Rob,  together  with  a  strange 
gentleman  whose  countenance  was  somewhat  famil 
iar,  the  gaze  of  all  seemingly  concentrated  upon 
some  object  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  apartment. 

Jim  Jones  felt  that  he  must  gain  a  view  of  this 
interesting  object,  whatever  it  was,  and  he  accord 
ingly  again  mounted  to  the  ridgepole,  and  essayed 
to  drag  himself  noiselessly  along  the  slippery  shakes. 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE   BLACK   CUETAIN   IS   LIFTED 

THE  little  apartment  disclosed  by  the  lifting  of 
the  black  curtain  was  as  bare  and  destitute  of  com 
fort  as  a  monk's  cell.  A  case  with  drawers,  a  stool, 
an  easel,  a  jar  with  brushes,  constituted  its  sole  fit 
tings,  but  against  the  easel  rested  a  canvas,  which 
drew  from  Harmon  a  low  exclamation  of  delight. 

The  scene  was  laid  in  the  depths  of  a  wood. 
The  shadows  were  deep  and  long,  but  the  rays  of 
the  setting  sun  found  their  way  through  the  dense 
canopy  of  foliage  and  fell  full  upon  a  feminine 
figure  clad  in  some  ethereal  gray  stuff,  a  crown  of 
scarlet  berries  on  her  shining  hair,  the  glory  and 
expectation  of  immortal  youth  in  her  startled  eyes. 
Suppleness  and  grace  were  in  every  line  of  the  slen 
der  figure,  which  stood  with  one  bare  foot  lightly 
resting  upon  the  roots  of  a  gnarled  oak,  and  with 
a  shapely  arm  upraised,  as  if  she  were  surprised  in 
the  act  of  touching  some  secret  latch  which  gave 
admission  to  her  sylvan  dwelling. 

"The  Hamadryad!  I  see  you've  gone  back  to 
Greek  mythology  for  your  subject,"  said  Harmon 
thoughtfully.  "Armitage,  it  is  your  masterpiece!  " 

Rob  was  gazing,  entranced,  at  this  magical  crea 
tion  of  human  fancy  and  human  hands.  But  ah! 


310  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

he  could  not  help  remembering  the  baser  uses  to 
which  these  hands  had  been  so  often  put,  the  heavy 
tasks  they  had  performed,  the  homely  drudgery  they 
had  so  patiently  discharged. 

Amy  could  not  speak.  Her  thoughts  flew  back 
to  a  Christmas  Day  when  she  had  declared  a  truce 
with  her  enemy  and  he  had  crowned  her  with  man- 
zanita  berries.  Mr.  Paul  had  plainly  found  his 
magic  purse  again.  It  need  nevermore  be  empty. 

"I  'm  sorry  the  light  is  so  poor,"  said  the  young 
man  again.  "It's  rather  a  dark  picture  to  show 
on  such  a  dismal  day." 

Again  Harmon  marveled.  A  mellow  glow  fell 
through  the  skylight  above,  flooding  the  picture 
with  light. 

"Miss  Amy, "said  the  painter,  coming  around  to 
her  side  and  speaking  in  an  undertone,  "I  hope 
you  '11  forgive  the  harmless .  little  deception  about 
my  name.  The  fact  is,  I  came  up  here  for  an  in 
definite  period,  to  rest  my  eyes.  It  was  imperative. 
The  only  way  to  do  it  was  to  hide  from  everybody, 
for  they  besieged  me  with  commissions.  It  was 
a  constant  temptation.  This  was  done  on  an  old 
order  I  had  from  the  national  government.  I  've 
been  on  the  point  of  telling  you  more  than  once. 
But  there  was  so  much  to  be  explained." 

He  stopped  abruptly. 

"It  isn't  of  the  least  consequence.  Don't  give 
it  a  second  thought,"  returned  Amy  indifferently. 
"What  does  a  name  amount  to,  anyhow?  Our 
fathers  changed  theirs  at  pleasure,  and  no  three 
generations  in  the  same  family  are  likely  to  retain 


THE  BLACK  CURTAIN   IS   LIFTED  311 

the  same  spelling  where  there  is  a  chance  for  devia 
tion." 

"True,"  said  Armitage.  "Even  the  law  recog 
nizes  a  man's  right  to  name  and  rename  himself 
at  pleasure,  and  he  can  legally  transact  business 
under  any  title  he  chooses  to  adopt,  so  long  as  it 
isn't  another  man's  property,  or  he  doesn't  assume 
it  for  dishonest  purposes." 

"In  this  case  the  offense  amounts  to  nothing," 
assented  Amy.  "We  have  merely  formed  a  little 
habit  which  it  may  take  time  to  unlearn.  That 
is  all." 

This  sounded  very  amiable  and  reasonable,  but 
Armitage  could  not  help  wishing  that  Amy  were 
not  quite  so  complaisant. 

"We  have  each  had  some  reserves  from  the 
other,"  he  said  meaningly. 

The  senator  turned  to  the  young  lady. 

"And  this  is  the  little  song-bird  who  enchanted 
all  the  critics  of  the  Bohemian  Club,"  he  remarked, 
with  a  pleasant  smile.  "How  do  you  come  to  have 
hidden  yourself  away  in  this  wilderness,  Miss  Ju 
dith?  Pardon  me  for  saying  that  you  have  a  future 
too  brilliant  to  be  sacrificed  in  this  way." 

"The  bird  was  slain  that  very  night,  Mr.  Har 
mon,"  she  replied,  with  piteous  candor.  "I  sup 
pose  I  went  out  into  the  fog  without  muffling  my 
throat  properly.  The  next  time  I  tried  to  sing,  my 
voice  was  gone." 

"  Surely  you  took  medical  advice  ?  A  good  phy 
sician  ought  to  have  helped  you." 

"I  saw  them  all.    There  was  nothing  to  be  done," 


312  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

she  said,  the  bitterness  of  memory  making  her  voice 
pathetic.  "It  was  an  obstinate  form  of  throat 
trouble,  never  any  acute  inflammation,  but  in  chronic 
form  from  the  first.  I  was  advised  to  come  up  here, 
but  I  put  hope  behind  me." 

Her  simple  story  of  disappointment  and  failure 
seemed  to. emphasize  the  distance  between  the  great 
painter,  whose  touch  was  like  the  alchemist's  of  old, 
bringing  fortune,  friends,  and  fame,  and  herself,  a 
helpless  woman,  with  her  one  talent  destroyed. 

Armitage  appeared  to  be  looking  past  her,  listen 
ing  intently,  with  an  expression  on  his  face  she  had 
never  seen  before. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  bringing  this  up,"  said 
Harmon,  in  genuine  contrition. 

"It  belongs  to  another  life,"  said  Amy  Judith 
steadily.  "I  have  found  new  occupation,  new  inter 
ests,  and  I  am  perfectly  content,  perfectly  happy." 

At  this  moment  there  came  an  unexpected  diver 
sion.  A  shadow  darkened  the  skylight,  there  was 
a  sound  of  something  slipping  and  scrambling  on 
the  roof,  and  the  next  instant,  with  a  shower  of 
glass,  a  man  crashed  head  first  through  the  flimsy 
skylight,  striking  a  palette  spread  with  fresh  colors 
that  was  lying  on  the  chest  of  drawers,  thence 
caroming  to  the  floor,  which  he  reached  in  a  sitting 
posture,  while  with  a  sullen  report  a  revolver  dis 
charged,  sending  a  ball  of  large  calibre  harmlessly 
into  the  wall. 

All  gathered  around  this  unbidden  guest  to  ascer 
tain  his  identity,  and  incidentally  to  discover  the 
extent  of  his  injuries. 


THE  BLACK  CURTAIN  IS   LIFTED  313 

The  man  himself  was  too  dazed  to  speak,  but  sat 
upright  and  stared  foolishly  about  him. 

"This  is  rather  an  unceremonious  descent  upon 
us,  my  fine  fellow,"  said  Harmon.  "What's  your 
name?  Can't  you  present  your  card?  " 

Still  the  new-comer  stared  speechlessly  about  him. 

"I  should  say  he  was  suffering  from  an  ultrama 
rine  concussion  of  the  brain  and  a  raw  umber  frac 
ture  of  the  maxillary  process,"  asserted  Harmon, 
gravely  addressing  Armitage. 

"He's  certainly  got  a  chrome-yellow  contusion 
of  the  right  eye,  and  a  complication  of  sepia  and 
prussian  blue  on  his  cheek,"  returned  Armitage  as 
seriously. 

"With  a  liberal  shading  of  rose  madder,"  sug 
gested  Miss  Judith,  for  streaks  of  blood  trickling 
down  the  intruder's  face  began  to  testify  to  the 
wounds  he  had  received  in  transit,  and,  combined 
with  his  plastering  of  moist  colors,  caused  him  to 
resemble  an  Indian  brave  who  had  been  studying 
in  the  impressionist  school. 

"How  would  it  do  to  treat  him  on  the  homoeo 
pathic  plan?  Give  him  a  dose  of  Venetian  red  and 
apply  a  plaster  of  cobalt?  "  pursued  Harmon. 

"I  should  incline  to  a  surgical  operation  on  the 
allopathic  principle,"  replied  Armitage.  "It  seems 
to  me  his  only  hope  is  heroic  scraping  with  the 
palette  knife." 

"Was  I  saying  anything  about  the  political  situ 
ation?  What  paper  do  you  think  he  represents? 
How  much  do  you  suppose  he  overheard?  "  asked 
Harmon  of  Armitage,  in  an  undertone. 


314  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"I  don't  really  think  he  is  a  reporter,"  Armitage 
replied,  scrutinizing  the  features  of  his  unbidden 
guest  as  well  as  he  could  with  their  bizarre  decora 
tions.  "I  believe  he's  a  fellow  who  lives  around 
here,  a  man  known  as  Jim  Jones,  —  perfectly  inno 
cent  of  writing  for  the  press,  whatever  other  iniqui 
ties  he  may  be  guilty  of." 

"Thank  Heaven!  "  said  the  senator. 

"Jim  Jones,"  said  Armitage  severely,  "what 
were  you  doing  on  my  roof?" 

"Darn  your  old  roof  and  your  skylight!"  said 
Jim  Jones  vigorously,  finding  breath  and  voice. 
"I  '11  sue  you  for  damages,  — having  16  oz.  glass  in 
that  skylight,  — see  if  I  don't!  The  idee  that  when 
a  man  's  chasing  a  coyote  down  the  hills  an'  the 
critter  jumps  on  a  roof,  an'  a  man  follers  after  him, 
he  's  got  to  tumble  through  death-traps  like  this! " 

"Chasing  coyotes  —  on  a  roof!  "  Rob  bent  dou 
ble  with  laughter. 

The  senator,  with  his  unfailing  tact,  relieved  the 
strain  of  the  occasion. 

"Rather  a  sudden  notion,  this  hunting-trip  of 
yours,  Jones!  I  believe  I  saw  you  at  the  station 
as  our  train  pulled  in.  Now,  Mr.  Jones,"  he  went 
on  suavely,  "I  respect  your  modesty,  and  I  do  not 
doubt  Mr.  Armitage  sympathizes  with  the  delicacy 
you  show  hi  trying  to  conceal  the  real  object  of 
your  visit.  But  we  're  all  art  lovers  here,  Jones, 
and  there  's  not  one  among  us  that  does  n't  admire 
the  enterprise  of  a  man  who  will  climb  the  roof  of 
a  house  to  get  a  peep  at  a  painting  like  this  through 
a  skylight.  Brought  your  field-glass  along,  too,  I 


THE  BLACK  CURTAIN  IS  LIFTED          315 

see.  Now,  Armitage,  here  's  a  tribute  such  as  you 
might  n't  receive  again  in  a  lifetime.  Get  up,  get 
up,  Mr.  Jones.  Never  mind  your  wounds.  They  're 
obtained  in  a  noble  cause.  Satisfy  to  the  full  the 
cravings  of  your  aesthetic  mind." 

Jim  Jones,  recovering  his  wits,  such  as  they 
were,  dimly  realized  that  something  was  expected 
of  him,  and,  awkwardly  struggling  to  his  feet,  drew 
his  glass  from  its  leather  case,  and,  covering  the 
damaged  barrel  of  the  instrument  with  his  hand, 
directed  it  upon  the  canvas,  focusing  it  with  elab 
orate  attention. 

"Better  perspective  than  when  you  look  at  it 
upside  down,  Jones  ?  "  queried  the  senator. 

"Heap  better!  "  said  Jones  desperately. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  chiaro-oscuro,  Jones?  " 

"Tiptop!"  returned  Jones,  seeking  safety  in 
brevity  of  answer. 

"Let  me  see  your  glass,  Jones." 

The  miserable  man  could  do  no  less  than  extend 
the  instrument  to  his  inquisitor. 

Harmon  examined  it  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"  Ha !  I  thought  it  was  an  original-looking  instru 
ment.  Sort  of  monocular,  isn't  it?  Or  perhaps 
you  have  a  glass  eye,  Jones?" 

"I  've  got  just  as  good  a  pair  of  eyes  as  any  man 
in  the  Vernal  Hills!  "  declared  Jones  hotly. 

"Glad  to  hear  it,  Jones.  It's  plain  to  see  you 
have  the  right  ideas  on  art.  Some  day  I  'd  like 
to  have  a  talk  with  you  about  the  old  masters.  I  'd 
value  your  opinion  about  Murillo,  Raphael,  Rubens, 
and  the  lot.  To-day  my  time's  limited;  but  I'm 


316  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

very  happy  to  have  met  with  a  gentleman  possessed 
of  the  refreshing  interest  in  high  art  you  've  evinced 
to-day.  If  you  should  ever  visit  the  national  capi 
tal,  I  'd  take  pleasure  in  handing  you  passes  to  the 
art  galleries." 

(  "Darn  him!  He  was  as  polite  an'  palavering  as 
you  please,  an'  I  couldn't  tell,  to  save  me,  whether 
he  was  in  dead  earnest  or  only  in  joke,  for  all  the 
while  there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  whenever  he 
looked  at  me,"  said  Jim  Jones,  when  retailing  his 
adventure  to  the  sheriff  and  his  force  that  night. 
"But  he  slicked  things  over  for  me  when  I  was  in 
the  wust  mess  of  my  life,  and  he  gets  my  vote  next 
election,  you  bet !  "  ) 

"I  believe  my  car  's  booked  to  pull  out  on  the  early 
morning  train,  Armitage.  Won't  you  come  along? 
Take  a  little  run  down  to  Los  Angeles  with  me." 

"Not  this  time,  Harmon,  thank  you.  Of  course 
you  '11  give  my  regards  to  the  boys  when  you  reach 
San  Francisco.  And  you  '11  see  Norcross  and  take 
up  that  note.  But  about  the  picture? " 

"Better  express  it  direct  to  Washington.  I  shall 
be  back  there  in  a  month." 

They  were  moving  towards  the  outer  door,  through 
the  black  curtain,  which  parted  sullenly  to  let  them 
pass,  along  the  great  room  with  its  odd  appoint 
ments,  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  a  city  studio.  Jim 
Jones  brought  up  the  rear  of  the  procession,  re 
lieved  at  being  for  the  moment  spared  the  embarrass 
ment  of  the  distinguished  visitor's  attentions,  and 
looking  eagerly  for  a  chance  of  escape,  when  they 
were  all  startled  by  the  simultaneous  firing  of  a 


THE  BLACK  CURTAIN  IS  LIFTED          317 

fusillade  of  shots  outside,  accompanied  by  a  loud 
pounding  on  the  door  of  the  cabin.  "Give  yourself 
up  peaceable,  and  we  won't  hurt  a  hair  o'  your  head !  " 
shouted  a  voice  from  without,  and  in  the  same  in 
stant  there  was  a  fierce  bay  and  a  wild  stampede. 

"In  the  name  of  common  sense,  Armitage,  are 
these  every-day  occurrences  in  your  Arcadian  re 
treat?"  demanded  the  senator. 

"Not  exactly,  Harmon.  It  seems  to  be  a  little 
livelier  to-day  than  common,"  Armitage  replied 
soberly. 

Rob  had  darted  out  of  the  door  at  the  sound  of 
Hercules'  angry  cry,  and  was  just  in  time  to  see  the 
sheriff  turning  a  somersault  over  the  corral  fence, 
which  offered  the  only  visible  fortifications. 

"Here,  Hercules!  Lie  down,  boy.  What  would 
you  like,  sir?  " 

"I  don't  want  nothing  o'  you.  What  I  want  is 
the  fine  gentleman  who  's  in  that  cabin." 

The  sheriff  came  out  from  behind  his  barricade, 
and  his  deputies  joined  him  one  by  one. 

Armitage  and  the  senator  appeared  in  the  door 
of  the  dwelling,  looking  very  much  surprised  and 
somewhat  annoyed,  while  Jim  Jones,  still  wearing 
his  high-colored  decorations,  appeared  behind  them, 
wildly  gesticulating. 

"Did  you  wish  to  see  me,  Mr.  Sheriff,  or  are 
you  looking  for  my  friend  Armitage?" — indicating 
the  painter,  on  whose  shoulder  his  hand  was  resting, 
—  asked  Harmon,  with  dignity,  and  a  chill  look 
which  sent  the  sheriff's  hopes  of  the  Spanish  mis 
sion  down  into  his  boots. 


318  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

The  sheriff,  if  somewhat  lacking  in  judgment, 
was  a  man  of  perception.  The  presence  of  no  less 
a  person  than  Senator  Harmon  in  Mr.  Paul's  house, 
and  on  terms  of  apparent  intimacy  with  its  master, 
was  proof  conclusive  that  something  was  wrong  in 
the  information  on  which  he  had  been  acting.  It 
was  an  embarrassing  moment  for  him,  but  he  rose 
to  the  occasion. 

"I  beg  pardon,  senator.  It's  the  man  behind 
you  I  'm  after.  Fact  is,  we  were  out  together  "  — 

"A-hunting!  "  put  in  Jim  Jones  eagerly. 

"Yes,  on  a  little  hunting  expedition.  We  got 
separated.  That 's  all  there  is  to  it.  Land  sakes, 
Jim!  What 's  happened  to  you?  " 

There  was  a  general  uproar  as  the  full  glory  of 
Jim  Jones's  adornment  became  visible. 

"He  's  merely  been  dabbling  in  art  a  little.  A 
dangerous  thing  for  amateurs.  Good-day,  gentle 
men  ! "  and  the  senator  turned  on  his  heel. 

The  minor  discovery  that  Mr.  Paul  and  Armitage 
were  one  and  the  same  person  did  not  endear  that 
gentleman  to  the  constabulary  force,  or  increase  the 
sheriff's  liking  for  him. 

"Serve  him  right  if  I'd  jugged  him  then  and 
there!  What  business  's  he  got  coming  up  here 
fooling  round  with  his  aliases?  "  demanded  the 
sheriff  of  his  force. 

The  posse  lingered  in  the  hills  until  after  sunset, 
and  under  cover  of  darkness  went  down  the  canon, 
wisely  separating  when  they  reached  the  highway, 
where  the  presence  of  so  large  a  body  of  armed 
men  might  have  given  rise  to  awkward  inquiries. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  BLACK  CURTAIN  FALLS 

ARMITAGE  and  his  friends  strolled  down  the  road, 
for  the  senator  had  declared  his  intention  of  walk 
ing  back  to  the  village  and  would  not  be  dissuaded 
from  it.  He  sauntered  along  in  advance  with  Amy 
Judith,  finding  a  rare  charm  in  the  girl's  sweet 
womanly  ways  and  piquant  speech.  As  he  com 
pared  her  fresh,  unspoiled  nature  with  the  weary, 
world-worn  air  and  frequently  tarnished  characters 
of  great  singers  whom  he  had  met,  he  could  not  help 
wondering  whether,  after  all,  her  calamity  had  not 
been  a  blessing  in  disguise,  and  if  the  world  could 
not  better  spare  a  great  singer  from  its  lists  rather 
than  be  made  the  poorer  by  the  loss  of  a  single  true 
and  happy  woman,  contented  within  the  wholesome 
limits  of  her  own  home  life. 

Armitage  was  following  after,  with  Rob.  The 
strain  and  confinement  of  the  past  weeks  had  told 
strangely  upon  him,  for  Rob  observed  that  he  moved 
wearily  and  heavily,  often  stumbling,  and  he  seemed 
in  a  depressed  mood,  paying  little  heed  to  the  boy's 
cheerful  remarks,  until  he  relapsed  into  silence. 

They  reached  the  clearing  under  the  oaks  beneath 
the  cottage,  stopping  there  for  a  few  parting  words. 


320  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"I  shall  always  retain  an  exceedingly  pleasant 
memory  of  this  day,"  said  Harmon.  "When  I  get 
back  to  the  turmoil  and  worries  of  office,  and  am 
wading  through  the  slush  and  sleet  of  winter  in  the 
capital,  I  am  going  to  often  think  of  the  peace  and 
beauty  of  this  little  nook  in  the  hills.  Good-by, 
Miss  Judith,  and  may  life  bring  you  compensation 
so  rich  that  you  will  never  grieve  over  the  jewel 
you  have  lost.  Good-by,  Rob.  Take  good  care 
of  your  sister.  As  you  won't  accept  my  invitation, 
Armitage,  I  suppose  I  must  take  leave  of  you  as 
well." 

"Good-by,"  said  Armitage. 

He  seemed  in  a  peculiarly  absent-minded  mood, 
for  he  extended  his  hand  to  Rob,  who  stood  a  few 
paces  away  to  his  right,  while  the  senator  was  stand 
ing  at  his  left. 

Harmon  saw  the  odd  blunder,  and  came  hastily 
forward  to  relieve  the  awkwardness  of  the  error. 

"I  won't  go  any  farther  with  you,  Harmon.  I 
must  go  back  and  rest  my  eyes.  But  do  you  think 
you  can  find  your  way?  It 's  such  a  black  night, 
and  the  road  is  new  to  you." 

The  sun  was  hanging,  a  great  crimson  ball,  over 
the  western  sea.  A  soft  mist  obscured  the  hori 
zon,  but  a  tremulous  radiance  brightened  all  the 
landscape. 

A  chill  crept  over  those  who  listened,  fear  gath 
ering  in  their  hearts  as  they  read  confirmation  in 
each  other's  eyes. 

Their  voicelessness  was  more  impressive  than  any 


THE  BLACK  CURTAIN  FALLS  321 

speech.  Armitage  reeled  as  if  he  had  received  a 
blow,  then  stood  up  straight  and  tall,  the  brightness 
of  the  setting  sun  upon  his  pallid  face. 

"My  God!     The  sun  will  never  rise  again  for 
me.     The  black  curtain  has  fallen  forever!  " 


CHAPTER   XLII 

THE   HISTORY   OF   THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

"DON'T  be  disheartened,  Armitage!"  said  Har 
mon,  clasping  the  latter's  hand,  while  his  trembling 
voice  showed  how  deeply  he  was  moved.  "You 
have  only  overtaxed  your  eyes  again.  I  did  n't 
know  —  I  ought  not  to  have  let  you  undertake  the 
commission  till  your  cure  was  complete.  But  when 
you  wrote  me  you  were  rea^y  to  begin  work  again, 
I  supposed  you  were  the  best  judge." 

A  great  horror  took  possession  of  Rob,  who  had 
been  looking  on  and  listening,  slowly  comprehend 
ing  the  nature  of  the  awful  tragedy  that  had  toc- 
curred,  and  his  own  agency  in  it. 

"  Oh,  he  is  blind !  He  is  blind !  He  has  given 
his  eyesight  to  save  me !  " 

The  senator  thought  the  catastrophe  had  turned 
the  boy's  brain,  and  tried  to  soothe  and  hush  him 
with  a  hopeful,  sympathetic  speech,  but  Rob  raved 
on  like  one  distracted :  — 

"You  don't  understand,  Mr.  Harmon.  It  is  all 
my  fault.  He  painted  that  picture  because  I  had 
to  have  a  certain  sum  of  money  by  spring,  and 
everything  else  we  depended  on  had  failed.  Oh, 
Mr.  Armitage,  if  it  would  bring  back  your  sight 
to  have  my  own  eyes  pierced  with  red-hot  irons, 
I  'd  have  it  done  this  minute  "  — 


THE  HISTORY  OF   THE  BLACK  CURTAIN    323 

"Don't,  Bob!" 

Armitage  groped  for  the  boy's  hand,  hardened 
with  honest  labor  and  bearing  a  hero's  scars,  and 
held  it  close  with  a  warm,  loyal  pressure. 

"It  might  have  happened  anyhow,  Rob.  It  is 
only  an  old  weakness  come  back.  Some  day  it 
was  inevitable.  I  narrowly  escaped  it  three  years 
ago  in  San  Francisco.  My  boy,  don't  grieve  so! 
What  is  friendship,  if  a  man  may  not  risk  his  all 
for  it?  I  count  it  well  invested,  Rob.  Amy,  have 
you  gone?  Where  are  you?  I  want  you,  Amy." 

They  led  him  back  to  his  cabin,  and  all  that  night 
Amy  Judith  sat  beside  him,  woeful  and  wordless, 
laying  cooling  lotions  on  the  hot,  closed  eyelids. 
Sometimes  he  slept,  but  more  often  he  lay  with 
knitted  brows,  fighting  a  stern  battle  of  resignation. 
When  morning  came  and  the  brilliancy  of  dawn 
flooded  all  the  earth  with  rejoicing  light,  it  was  not 
for  him. 

Once  he  said :  — 

"  Amy,  you  know  now  why  I  dared  not  face  the 
fire." 

"And  I  would  have  called  you  a  coward!"  she 
murmured,  with  a  bursting  heart,  laying  her  cheek 
against  his,  while  he  seized  her  hand  and  held  it 
close  to  his  throbbing  heart;  but  no  other  caress 
passed  between  them,  and  the  deep  affection  which 
in  the  one  heart  so  hungered  for  a  return,  and  in 
the  other  would  have  found  its  greatest  joy  in  lav 
ishing  its  boundless  wealth  upon  the  stricken  man, 
remained  voiceless  and  unconfessed. 

The  next  day  a  distinguished  oculist  came  from 


324  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

the  neighboring  southern  city,  sent  by  Harmon, 
who  would  not  be  denied  this  effort  on  his  friend's 
behalf.  The  specialist  made  a  thorough  examina 
tion  and  rendered  a  frank  verdict.  When  Kob 
heard  this  sentence  he  left  the  house,  half  mad  with 
grief  and  remorse,  but  Armitage  made  no  comment, 
and  gave  no  sign  either  of  rebellion  or  protest. 

Days  passed  drearily  by,  and  Armitage,  whose 
lips  no  word  of  revolt  had  once  passed,  came  slowly 
to  a  sense  of  the  inevitable. 

"You  must  go  back  to  your  little  home  to-mor 
row.  I  cannot  impose  upon  you  in  this  way  any 
longer,"  he  announced  one  night,  as  he  sat  by  an 
open  window  listening  dreamily  to  the  distant  surf 
breaking  against  the  cliffs  that  lined  the  seashore. 

"Mr.  Armitage,  are  you  unwilling  we  should 
have  this  little  chance  to  atone?"  cried  Rob,  in 
dismay. 

"Rob,  you  take  this  too  much  to  heart.  Sooner 
or  later  it  was  bound  to  come.  I  have  known  it 
for  years.  I  never  spared  myself  in  my  busy  days. 
I  was  a  spendthrift  then." 

"But  if  you  had  n't  painted  that  picture  "  — 

The  boy  could  get  no  further.  The  magnitude 
of  Armitage 's  sacrifice  stupefied  him.  The  canceled 
note  had  been  returned  by  Norcross.  He  was  free 
from  any  danger  of  prosecution,  his  name  had  been 
saved,  life  was  again  before  him  to  shape  according 
to  his  will  —  but  at  what  a  cost ! 

"  It  makes  it  very  pleasant  to  have  you  here,  — 
too  pleasant!"  Armitage  went  on,  after  a  slight 
pause.  "But  I  must  get  back  to  my  bachelor  life, 


THE   HISTORY  OF  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN    325 

test  my  ability  to  wait  upon  myself,  accustom  myself 
to  its  limitations.  Never  fear  but  that  I  shall  tax 
you  enough!  "  he  added,  with  a  dreary  smile. 

"As  if  it  could  be  a  tax!"  Rob  indignantly 
repudiated  the  suggestion. 

The  lad  went  to  the  door  and  stood  there  looking 
tip  into  the  sky,  wondering  that  the  stars  could 
bear  to  look  down  upon  a  world  where  a  good  and 
brave  man,  devoting  himself  to  a  noble  and  unself 
ish  deed,  could  be  so  grievously  punished. 

"I've  been  thinking  that  I  ought  to  explain  to 
you  the  history  of  the  black  curtain,  Miss  Amy," 
Armitage  went  on  thoughtfully.  "There  's  really 
very  little  to  the  story,  or  would  n't  have  been  if  the 
curtain  hadn't  gone  on  making  history  for  itself  up 
here.  It  was  one  of  the  studio  fixtures  of  a  fellow 
named  Towne,  a  moody,  morose  sort  of  man,  with 
any  amount  of  talent,  but  with  a  positive  genius 
for  being  misunderstood.  He  was  a  genuine  pessi 
mist,  and  when  the  world  refused  to  recognize  his 
worth,  he  bought  this  black  stuff  —  the  boys  used 
to  declare,  at  an  undertaker's  —  and  stretched  it 
across  his  studio  wall  to  hide  his  paintings  from  the 
sight  of  the  great  public,  which  as  a  matter  of  fact 
never  came  near  the  place.  Well,  matters  went 
badly  with  him,  and  one  day  they  found  him  hang 
ing  behind  the  curtain,  stark  and  stiff,  poor  fellow! 

"The  curtain  was  offered  for  sale  with  the  rest 
of  his  studio  effects.  There  was  really  nothing  of 
much  value;  but  a  lot  of  us  attended  the  auction 
and  stood  in  on  the  sale  for  the  sake  of  his  destitute 
old  mother.  None  of  the  boys  wanted  the  curtain. 


326       .  THE  BLACK   CURTAIN 

They  had  a  sort  of  notion  that  Towne's  spirit 
haunted  it.  I  bought  it  simply  because  nobody  else 
would  have  it,  and  when  I  had  to  give  up  my  pro 
fession  and  come  down  here,  the  fancy  seized  me 
to  bring  it  along  and  string  it  before  my  old  easel 
and  the  other  belongings  of  my  workshop.  It  was 
a  foolish  notion.  I  've  come  to  feel  myself  that  a 
sort  of  fatality  attached  to  the  drapery,  that  it 
symbolized  the  dark  doom  which  has  so  long  over 
hung  me." 

"Well,  you  '11  never  see  it  again,"  remarked  Rob, 
with  mild  satisfaction. 

"No,  I  shall  never  see  it  again,"  replied  the 
blind  man  sadly. 

Rob  flushed  with  distress  over  his  unthinking 
speech. 

"I  mean,"  he  said  hastily,  "that  when  I  went  to 
pack  up  the  painting  to  send  to  Senator  Harmon, 
as  you  directed  me  to,  I  needed  something  soft  and 
thick  to  wrap  about  the  frame  and  canvas  to  pro 
tect  them  from  injury.  There  was  nothing  else 
handy,  and  I  tore  down  the  curtain.  None  of  us 
will  ever  see  it  again,  for  the  reason  that  by  this 
time  it 's  a  thousand  or  so  miles  from  here." 

The  following  day  Armitage  was  left  alone  in  his 
little  canon  home,  overruling  every  objection  that 
could  be  raised. 

"I  am  not  half  as  helpless  as  you  imagine  me," 
he  said  to  Amy  cheerfully.  "You  see  I  have  been 
anticipating  this  for  years.  I  never  knew  at  what 
moment  it  might  descend  upon  me,  and  I  have 
taught  myself  to  go  about  with  closed  eyes,  and 


THE   HISTORY   OF   THE   BLACK   CURTAIN     327 

to  recognize  and  discriminate  between  things  by 
touch.  There  is  scarcely  an  article  in  my  cabin 
here  that  I  couldn't  put  my  hand  on  in  the  da<rk. 
I  have  often  found  my  way  about  my  garden  and 
along  the  path  to  my  neighbor's  garden  with  closed 
eyes.  Now  I  must  put  this  training  to  use,  for 
I  shall  probably  live  alone  all  the  rest  of  my  life." 

"But,  Mr.  Armitage,  to  come  down  to  a  very 
practical  little  question,  you  cannot  undertake  to 
cook  for  yourself." 

"As  to  that,  I  have  under  consideration  an  offer 
made  by  one  of  the  wood-cutters  who  worked  here 
at  the  time  of  the  fire.  He  wanted  to  continue  to 
cut  wood  on  shares  in  the  east  gulch,  and  proposed 
to  put  up  a  brush  shanty  and  bring  his  wife  up 
here  to  live.  She  will  prepare  my  meals  and 
render  any  little  service  I  may  require.  Of  course 
it 's  only  a  makeshift,  but  it  may  do  for  a  while, 
until  I  decide  what  I  shall  do  in  the  future." 

Amy  Judith  mustered  courage  to  broach  a  sub 
ject  that  had  been  in  her  mind  for  days. 

"Mr.  Armitage,"  she  said,  "why  don't  you  have 
her  come?  " 

He  turned  to  her,  surprised  and  questioning. 

"You  know  you  showed  me  her  portrait  one 
day,"  Amy  Judith  went  on  bravely.  "Looking 
upon  her  face,  I  can  realize  what  she  must  be  to 
you.  You  need  her  now.  You  ought  to  send  for 
her." 

"Oh,  that  would  never  do;  never  in  this  world! 
I  could  not  ask  so  much  of  her." 

Amy  said  no  more,  but  a  generous  purpose  was 


328  THE  BLACK   CURTAIN 

gradually  taking  shape  in  her  mind,  only  waiting 
opportunity  to  be  put  into  execution. 

The  sweet,  tranquil  face  of  the  portrait  was  ever 
present  before  her  mental  vision.  She  felt  it  to  be 
her  mission,  in  these  dark  days  of  misfortune,  to 
reunite  these  strangely  separated  lives.  Obstacles 
were  in  her  way,  but  some  day  she  would  be  able 
to  overcome  them.  She  did  not  know  the  name 
or  address  of  the  lady.  She  was  not  quite  certain 
whether  she  were  Mr.  Armitage's  wife  or  sweet 
heart,  although  the  presumption  was  that  they  were 
married,  as  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity  there 
could  have  been  no  possible  reason  for  procrastina 
tion  or  delay.  Moreover,  men  were  not  wont  to 
speak  of  their  fiancees  with  the  perfect  candor 
Armitage  had  exhibited  in  alluding  to  this  lady. 

Meantime  the  two,  brother  and  sister,  kept  a 
closer  espionage  over  the  blind  man  than  they  would 
have  had  him  know,  and  remembered  him  with 
every  little  attention  in  their  power. 


CHAPTER   XLIII 

CROSS   PURPOSES 

ONE  day  Armitage  presented  himself  at  the 
cottage  door. 

"Miss  Amy,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  supply 
me  with  writing  materials?  There  is  a  letter  I 
must  send." 

The  girl's  quick  intuition  at  once  divined  the 
character  of  this  communication. 

"Mr.  Armitage,  are  you  going  to  tell  her?  " 

"Not  yet.     Oh,  not  yet.     But  I  must  write." 

Her  heart  ached  for  him,  as  she  read  back  of  his 
words  a  painful  shrinking  from  confiding  the  full 
measure  of  his  misfortune  to  the  woman  he  loved. 

She  gave  him  a  seat  at  her  little  writing-desk, 
and  placing  paper  and  pencil  before  him,  stood  at 
a  little  distance  and  saw  him  form  the  first  awkward 
words,  guiding  his  hand  by  means  of  a  book  laid 
across  the  paper  above  the  line  he  essayed  to  follow. 
Not  for  the  world  would  she  have  deciphered  the 
words  in  which  he  disguised  the  awful  tragedy  that 
had  overtaken  him,  or,  confessing  it  at  length  with 
out  reserve,  resigned  his  life's  dearest  hopes. 

For  a  while  she  waited,  and  thus  it  came  that 
she  was  a  witness  of  the  agonized  struggle  which 
ensued.  She  saw  him  stop  and  bow  his  head 


330  THE   BLACK   CURTAIN 

upon  the  desk-lid,  his  hands  clenched,  his  whole 
attitude  one  of  profound  despair.  When  she  could 
bear  the  sight  no  longer,  she  noiselessly  left  the 
room. 

Oh,  cruel  world,  that  ranked  each  man  and  wo 
man  by  the  little  measure  of  worldly  success  achieved 
in  selfish  greed,  and  counted  as  nothing  the  unseen 
sacrifices  that  resulted  in  disaster  and  loss !  Cruel 
civilization,  which  bound  its  coronets  upon  unde 
serving  brows,  and  left  its  grandest  heroes  to  tread 
the  by-paths  of  poverty  and  despair,  and  to  sleep, 
at  length,  in  unmarked  and  forgotten  graves ! 

And  she,  the  beautiful,  gifted  woman,  whom  he 
so  worshiped,  and  in  whom  his  life  was  so  bound 
up,  that  to  lose  her  meant  more  than  the  bitterness 
of  death,  —  what  manner  of  woman  was  she,  who 
could  be  only  a  fair-weather  friend,  and  from  whom 
he  would  fain  conceal  the  dire  misfortune  that  had 
befallen  him? 

More  generous  thoughts  forced  themselves  upon 
the  girl.  The  face  was  always  before  her.  Mr. 
Armitage  was  mistaken.  Men  rarely  understood 
a  woman's  heart,  or  were  capable  of  measuring  its 
depths  of  devotion,  of  loyalty  and  sympathy.  She 
recalled  the  high  nobility  of  the  countenance,  the 
exquisite  tenderness  of  brow  and  eyes  and  lips. 
Beneath  the  pride  and  gayety  and  possible  crust  of 
worldly  ambition,  there  existed  a  royal  capacity  for 
self-sacrifice.  Gracious,  elegant  woman  and  society 
queen  that  she  divined  the  original  of  the  portrait 
to  be,  who  could  tell  but  that  she  might  find  a  hap 
piness  better  and  sweeter  than  any  social  triumph 


CROSS  PURPOSES  331 

in  ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  stricken  man, 
and  in  bringing  consolation  to  his  sore  heart? 

An  hour  later  Armitage  placed  the  letter  in  her 
hand. 

"Will  you  address  it?  I'm  afraid  to  trust  my 
wavering  hand  on  an  envelope." 

He  dictated  the  address:  "Mrs.  Paul  Armitage, 
No. St.,  Boston,  Mass." 

The  girl  wrote  the  superscription  clearly  and 
neatly,  a  definite  plan  forming  in  her  mind.  Fate 
had  at  last  placed  opportunity  in  her  hands,  and 
she  meant  to  avail  herself  of  it.  She  did  not  seal 
the  envelope  when  she  had  finished,  but  laid  it  on 
the  little  cabinet  where  they  were  accustomed  to 
place  their  mail,  awaiting  Kob's  next  trip  to  the 
village. 

That  night  another  inclosure  was  slipped  within 
this  envelope;  it  was  simple  and  direct,  and  read 
as  follows :  — 

DEAK  MRS.  ARMITAGE,  —  I  think  it  is  only  right 
you  should  know  of  the  terrible  calamity  that  has 
come  upon  Mr.  Armitage,  and  of  which  I  am  sure 
he  is  trying  to  spare  you  all  knowledge.  He  is  blind. 
His  eyesight  was  offered  up  in  noble  self-sacrifice 
for  a  friend.  Because  the  man  he  saved  is  near  and 
dear  to  me,  it  seems  to  me  proper  that  I  should 
send  you  this  intelligence. 

Sadder  even  than  his  helplessness  is  the  cloud  of 
sorrow  and  despondence  in  which  he  seems  to  be  per 
petually  wrapped.  I  know  he  is  constantly  think 
ing  of  you  and  longing  for  your  presence,  for  he 


332  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

often  takes  your  portrait,  which  he  cannot  see,  in 
his  hands,  and  when  he  sits  alone,  he  is  always  fin 
gering  the  little  charm  on  his  watch-chain  which 
holds  your  likeness. 

Faithfully  yours, 

AMY  JUDITH. 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

BOHEMIANS   TO   THE   RESCUE 

WHEN  the  news  of  Armitage's  affliction  traveled 
up  to  San  Francisco,  it  aroused  in  his  old  comrades 
that  quick  and  unreckoning  sympathy  characteristic 
of  the  true  Bohemian. 

"  Blind  —  blind  and  penniless !  Think  of  it, 
boys !  Harmon  says  he  has  next  to  nothing  in  the 
world.  All  the  money  he  paid  him  for  the  paint 
ing  he  ruined  his  eyes  over  went  to  pay  off  some 
old  debt.  Blind  and  alone;  living  up  a  mountain 
canon!  .It 's  an  awful  situation,  boys!  We  've  got 
to  do  something  for  him,  and  right  away." 

Bohemia  is  by  instinct  gregarious.  She  cannot 
understand  the  beauties  of  solitude.  Separation 
from  the  bustle  and  action  of  the  city,  the  extrava 
gance  and  mirth  of  club-life,  the  gay  companion 
ship  of  kindred  souls,  means  to  her  something  only 
a  shade  less  gruesome  than  the  awful  solitude  of 
the  grave. 

"  We  must  have  him  down  here  at  once,  boys ! 
that 's  sure !  "  cried  Jack  Pryor,  who  had  once  been 
a  tenant  by  courtesy  of  Armitage's  studio,  when 
turned  out  of  his  own  by  reason  of  a  disagreement 
with  a  presumptuous  and  unreasonable  landlord, 
who  wanted  his  rent,  twelve  months  overdue. 


334  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"But  how  can  we  manage  it?  We  can't  get  him 
here  unless  he  has  something  to  live  upon.  Armi- 
tage  would  cut  his  throat  before  he  'd  eat  the  bread 
of  charity." 

"  How  would  it  do  to  try  to  railroad  a  bill  through 
Congress  granting  him  an  extra  allowance  for  the 
painting,  on  account  of  what  it  has  cost  him?" 

"Aw,  Congress!  Lots  of  sympathy  for  art  in 
Congress,  isn't  there?  We  'd  stand  a  better  chance 
of  getting  a  group  of  gilded  sea-lions  placed  on  the 
dome  of  the  national  Capitol  than  to  ask  Congress 
for  an  appropriation  for  such  a  purpose.  I  happen 
to  know  that  Harmon  rolled  logs  with  a  New  Eng 
land  member  to  get  that  commission  for  Armitage, 
—  voted  an  allowance  for  a  fog-horn  to  be  run  by 
the  distinguished  member's  nephew,  or  something 
of  the  kind,  else  he  'd  never  have  secured  the  job 
for  Armitage!  "  shamefully  asserted  another  of  the 
party,  a  foreigner,  who  had  not  a  proper  respect  for 
American  institutions. 

"And  our  government,  which  pensions  off  its 
schoolma'ams  and  soldiers,  one  class  at  least  being 
provided  all  their  lives  with  ample  salaries  to  save 
a  competency  from  during  their  years  of  usefulness, 
has  nothing  to  award  the  men  who  bring  the  highest 
distinction  on  the  nation  and  get  the  least  for  it," 
bitterly  remarked  an  old  painter,  who  had  for  years 
battled  to  keep  the  wolf  from  his  door  and  yet  re 
main  true  to  the  highest  ideals  of  his  profession, 
and  who  saw  old  age  and  destitution  approaching. 

"Oh,  that's  as  you  look  at  it,"  smartly  replied 
young  Potboiler.  "  I  don't  seem  to  have  any  trou 
ble  to  get  along." 


BOHEMIANS  TO   THE  RESCUE  335 

"Armitage  has  a  most  picturesque  head.  He'd 
be  a  fine  subject  for  an  ideal  study  of  the  blind  Saul. 
I  could  make  no  end  of  use  of  him,"  said  a  young 
portrait  painter,  Mortimer  by  name. 

"Armitage  —  a  model!  You  need  to  have  a  hole 
punched  in  your  head,  Mortimer,  to  let  some  sense 
in,"  blandly  remarked  another. 

"Oh,  let  up,  boys!"  put  in  Pryor.  "As  Armi 
tage  won't  accept  help,  there  's  no  use  talking  about 
an  appeal  to  the  government,  or  getting  up  a  benefit 
sale,  or  anything  of  that  sort.  We  've  got  to  devise 
some  plan  we  can  work  without  any  affront  to  his 
feelings  or  his  dignity." 

"If  it  were  anything  but  his  eyes!"  groaned 
Rathburn,  a  portrait  painter  of  distinction,  who  had 
been  abroad  with  Armitage,  and  who  had  been 
deeply  affected  by  the  tidings  of  his  old  friend's 
calamity.  "If  he'd  only  been  crippled  for  life,  or 
his  hands  disabled,  or  his  health  failed,  he  could 
lie  on  a  sofa  and  talk  and  give  us  ideas,  and  be  no 
end  of  help  to  everybody !  Armitage  loves  his  art, 
and  he 's  scintillating  with  brilliant  thoughts  and 
suggestions.  Ruskin  was  n't  a  circumstance  to  him. 
But  blind!" 

Pryor's  face  had  brightened  during  this  speech. 
He  tossed  his  cigar  into  a  basket,  where  it  began  to 
smoulder  in  a  little  nest  of  burnt  paper,  promising 
to  kindle  a  fine  blaze  when  the  men  should  have 
gone  and  the  studio  be  deserted. 

"Boys,  I  have  an  idea!  " 

"Oh,  oh,  Pryor's  captured  an  idea!  Put  your 
finger  on  it,  Pryor!"  "An  epoch  in  Jack's  life, 


336  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

boys!  "  were  some  of  the  sarcastic  sallies  that 
greeted  this  announcement.  One  of  the  young  men 
slyly  blew  a  police-whistle  out  of  the  window, 
quickly  retreating  before  the  gaze  of  people  on  the 
street  below  could  travel  up  to  the  sixth  story,  in 
which  Rathburn's  sky  parlor  was  situated. 

"That  policeman  's  never  on  his  beat  when  he  's 
needed.  If  he  'd  been  in  his  proper  place,  I  'd  have 
had  him  come  up  and  arrest  it!"  he  explained  to 
the  reckless  crowd. 

Pryor  waited'  with  perfect  unconcern  until  the 
storm  of  badinage  subsided.  Then  he  unfolded  his 
idea,  which  was  hailed  with  approval  by  the  caucus. 

A  few  days  later,  two  young  men  clad  in  well- 
worn  corduroys,  and  looking  like  a  pair  of  disrepu 
table  fishermen  on  a  bootless  expedition,  accosted 
Amy  Judith  as  she  stood  beneath  the  tree  which 
sheltered  her  mountain  home. 

"Beg  pardon,"  said  one  of  the  young  men  affa 
bly,  doffing  his  cap,  and  sending  a  curious  glance 
aloft,  "would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  direct  us  to  Mr. 
Armitage's  place?  " 

Miss  Judith  gave  him  the  desired  information. 

"  Stunning  little  woman !  "  remarked  Mortimer. 
"Wonder  if  I  could  get  a  sketch  of  her  through  the 
trees!  And  did  you  see  that  little  summer-house 
up  in  the  tree  ?  " 

"Oh,  come  along!  Do  leave  shop  at  home  for 
once,"  angrily  muttered  Pryor,  hurrying  him  along 
their  way. 

Amy  Judith  felt  when  she  saw  these  visitors  that 
their  advent  boded  change  for  Paul  Armitage,  and 


BOHEMIANS  TO   THE  RESCUE  337 

she  followed  them  wistfully  with   her  eyes,   until 
they  were  lost  to  sight  around  a  bend  of  the  path. 

Some  doubts  had  been  felt  by  Armitage's  old 
comrades  as  to  the  advisability  of  sending  Mortimer 
along  on  this  commission,  on  account  of  his  pro 
verbial  lack  of  tact.  It  was  current  rumor  that  he 
had  once  forfeited  a  thousand -dollar  commission 
for  painting  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  bonanza 
kings,  through  garnishing  the  portrait,  with  deplor 
able  fidelity  to  nature,  with  a  large  wart  which 
formed  a  questionable  embellishment  to  the  young 
lady's  nose.  Could  his  friends  have  witnessed  the 
interview  which  followed,  they  would  have  realized 
that  their  misgivings  were  not  ill  founded. 

The  visitors  found  Armitage  standing  in  his 
corral,  feeding  a  bit  of  green  clover  to  his  mare,  the 
one  living  companion  he  possessed  of  whose  affection 
he  had  constant  and  unquestionable  demonstration. 
The  animal  whinnied  softly  as  her  master  turned 
away,  detecting  the  sound  of  footfalls  and  waiting 
for  his  visitors  to  announce  themselves. 

Unchanged  in  every  respect  save  that  fixed  ex 
pression  of  his  eyes  which  seemed  ever  waiting  for 
some  divine  touch  to  unseal  their  inner  chambers, 
his  pathetic  attitude  of  listening  and  waiting  was 
too  much  for  Mortimer,  who  blubbered  like  a  school 
boy,  struggling  valiantly  to  keep  any  sound  of  his 
grief  from  reaching  the  blind  man's  sensitive  ears. 

Pry  or 's  heart  was  no  less  moved,  but  he  went 
cheerily  forward. 

"Armitage,  I  'm  glad  to  find  you! " 

"Is  it  Jack  Pryor?  Well,  this  is  a  pleasure, 
Jack.  Who  's  with  you  ?  " 


338  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

Mortimer  contrived  to  come  forward  and  take 
Armitage's  hand,  murmuring  a  few  words  of  con 
ventional  greeting. 

"Out  on  a  sketching-trip,  boys?" 

"Well,  not  exactly.  Of  course  we  make  a  scrawl 
now  and  then.  But  we  're  up  here  to  see  you." 

"Lovely  pictures  you  have  in  these  hills,  Mr. 
Armitage,"  said  Mortimer,  rallying  his  spirits  and 
speaking  jauntily.  "Just  look  at  that  oak  over  there 
by  the  stream  now!  Where  the  sun  strikes  it,  it 
throws  real  purple  shadows  on  the  grass,  Van 
Antwerp  and  the  other  fellows  to  the  contrary,  eh? 
Don't  you  agree  with  me?  " 

Pryor  nudged  Mortimer  sharply.  He  could  have 
kicked  him  with  a  better  grace. 

"Take  us  some  place  where  we  can  sit  down, 
Armitage.  We  have  a  proposition  to  make  to 
you,"  said  Pryor,  noting  that  the  blind  man  was 
evidently  accustomed  to  find  his  way  about  alone, 
and  rightly  judging  that  he  would  take  pride  in 
demonstrating  his  independence  of  movement. 

Armitage  led  the  way  to  the  cabin,  chatting  easily 
and  pleasantly  of  old  friends  and  old  associations, 
and  thirstily  drinking  down  the  studio  gossip  with 
which  the  two  men  regaled  him  on  the  way.  He 
seated  his  visitors  in  his  large  living-room.  Morti 
mer's  eyes,  wandering  down  the  gay  perspective  to 
the  forlorn  space  at  the  room's  extremity,  no  longer 
concealed  by  the  black  drapery,  where  the  unused 
easel  stood,  relapsed  into  tears. 

"Now,  Armitage,"  began  Pryor,  casting  a  with 
ering  look  upon  his  fellow  artist,  "it 's  just  this 


BOHEMIANS  TO  THE  RESCUE  339 

way.  We  need  you  up  in  San  Francisco.  You 
know  you  always  were  a  sort  of  balance-wheel  and 
corrective  to  us  all,  keeping  us  true  to  the  best 
principles  of  art,  or  at  least  preventing  our  going 
far  astray.  Since  you  've  been  away,  we  're  all  at 
sixes  and  sevens.  The  fellows  are  running  to  all 
sorts  of  fads.  Some  of  their  work  would  make  you 
sick." 

Pryor  had  carefully  avoided  all  reference  to  the 
misfortune  which  had  descended  upon  his  old  friend, 
and  which  might  render  this  proposal  welcome  to 
him.  But  in  avoiding  Scylla,  he  had  unwittingly 
steered  against  Charybdis. 

Mortimer  tipped  him  a  vengeful  nod,  as  one  who 
realized  and  rejoiced  in  another's  misstep. 

"Such  things  are  not  serious,"  remarked  Armi- 
tage  calmly.  "To  go  astray  and  come  back  to  the 
fold  is  often  an  essential  process  of  growth." 

"But  to  keep  in  the  straight  path  and  never  go 
astray  takes  a  man  ahead  faster  and  surer,"  as 
serted  Jack  tranquilly.  "Fact  is,  we  've  been  talk 
ing  it  over,  some  of  us  fellows,  and  we  've  come  to 
the  conclusion  we  want  you  as  a  sort  of  shepherd. 
You  —  you  haven't  any  engagement  or  plan  in 
prospect  that  would  prevent  your  coming  to  us, 
have  you?  " 

"I  have  a  sort  of  plan.  I  could  scarcely  dignify 
it  by  the  title  of  '  engagement. '  It  is  n't  matured 
yet.  But  go  ahead  and  let  me  hear  what  you  have 
to  say.  In  what  capacity  do  you  want  me  to  serve 
as  shepherd,  Jack?  To  reach  out  a  pole  and  crook, 
catch  the  lambs  that  are  straying,  and  hustle  them 


340  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

back  to  the  fold  ?  Or  merely  to  herd  the  old  sheep, 
keep  them  together,  fat  and  hearty,  and  see  that 
they  do  not  graze  in  strange  pastures  or  eat  what 
isn't  good  for  them?  Explain  yourself  fully, 
Jack!" 

"Well,  I  suppose  that's  about  it,"  said  Pryor, 
wishing  to  heaven  that  he  had  never  been  betrayed 
into  that  awkward  metaphor  of  the  lambs  and  the 
shepherd,  and  trying  with  all  his  might  to  escape 
from  it.  "In  other  words,  if  you  'd  just  come  back 
and  accept  quarters  among  us,  and  give  us  your 
ideas  on  art,  either  in  the  form  of  private  talks  or 
open  lectures, — there  needn't  be  anything  formal 
about  them,  —  we  'd  be  no  end  obliged.  You  know 
men  are  living  by  that  very  sort  of  thing,  and 
reaping  distinction,  in  Munich  and  Vienna  and 
Paris,  and  all  the  art  centres  abroad." 

"Blind  men?" 

"Now,  Armitage,  the  question  of  sight  doesn't 
enter  into  the  matter  at  all.  You  have  seen,  and 
you  have  painted,  and  you  've  got  all  the  technique 
at  your  fingers'  end,  for  that  matter.  What  we 
want  is  the  benefit  of  your  experience  and  your 
ideas." 

"In  other  words,  if  a  question  of  color  or  of 
treatment  or  of  motive  arises ;  if  a  new  art  school 
comes  to  town  or  a  new  fad  develops,  or  some  poor 
fellow  is  trying  to  free  himself  from  a  mannerism 
or  find  his  true  leading,  you  want  me  to  keep  on 
promulgating  the  high  and  lofty  abstract  principles 
of  art.  When  the  poor  devils  are  dying  for  want 
of  water,  I  'm  to  offer  them  a  drop  of  oil." 


BOHEMIANS  TO  THE   RESCUE  341 

"You  don't  look  at  it  the  right  way,  Arraitage." 

"I'm  afraid  it  is  you  who  won't  look  at  it  the 
right  way,  Pryor.  I  appreciate  the  kindness  that 
prompts  this  offer,  but  I  believe  I  prefer  brooms." 

"What 's  that?  "  asked  Mortimer. 

"Brooms.  Haven't  you  heard  of  that  institution 
where  men  who  have  lost  their  sight  make  them 
selves  useful  by  manufacturing  hand-made  brooms? 
I  believe  the  establishment  is  supposed  to  draw 
state  aid,  but  it 's  really  self-supporting  through 
this  admirable  industry  of  its  inmates,  who  thus 
retain  their  self-respect.  Very  good  brooms  they 
make,  I  'm  told.  I  've  been  practicing.  As  a  pre 
liminary,  I  've  dissected  two  old  brooms." 

"But,  Mr.  Armitage,  we  were  going  to  pay  you 
a  salary,  —  a  good  round  salary !  Every  one  of  us 
was  going  to  chip  in,"  put  in  Mortimer.  Jack 
Pryor  wished  he  had  murdered  him  before  starting 
on  this  journey,  as  he  had  been  tempted  to  do  in 
San  Francisco. 

"Thank  you,  Mortimer.  I  think  making  brooms 
would  be  more  respectable." 

"Armitage,  don't  be  hasty  in  deciding.  It's 
going  to  be  an  awful  disappointment  to  us.  Why 
won't  you  try  it  for  a  month,  say?  I  think  you 
could  demonstrate  to  yourself  that  the  position  was 
no  mere  sinecure,  but  one  of  genuine  usefulness," 
urged  Jack,  in  desperation. 

"Thank  you,  Jack.  I  '11  think  it  over.  It  strikes 
me  that  it  would  be  a  good  test  case  to  take  the 
scheme  direct  to  the  Blind  Men's  Industrial  Home, 
and  make  it  the  feature  of  some  public  entertain- 


342  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

ment.  I  'm  obliged  to  you  for  the  suggestion.  It 
may  be  that  the  populace  would  rise  in  force  to  hear 
a  blind  man  instruct  them  on  art.  And  if  there 
should  be  a  hearty,  genuine  outpouring  at  so  much 
a  head,  I  promise  you  I  '11  take  to  the  platform  at 
once.  It 's  certainly  a  unique  idea !  " 

"  I  'd  rather  be  shot  than  go  back  and  tell  them 
you  won't  come,"  said  Pry  or  dejectedly. 

He  might  have  added,  with  truth,  that  Mortimer 
would  certainly  come  to  his  death  at  the  hands  of 
a  mob  of  infuriated  Bohemians,  should  they  be  en 
lightened  as  to  the  manner  in  which  he  had  aided 
their  mutual  errand. 


CHAPTER   XLV 

THE  WOMAN   OF  THE   PORTRAIT 

AMY  JUDITH  had  not  expected  any  answer  to  the 
pitiful  little  note  she  had  slipped  into  Mr.  Armi- 
tage's  letter  to  the  unknown  woman  who  exerted 
so  strong  an  influence  over  his  life,  but  a  couple  of 
weeks  later  a  letter  came  to  her,  addressed  in  deli 
cate  feminine  penmanship.  It  was  very  brief,  and 
read :  — 

DEAR  Miss  JUDITH,  —  I  shall  take  Tuesday's 
train  for  the  coast,  reaching  the  Vernal  Hills  on 
Sunday  the  —  inst. 

When  I  see  you,  I  shall  try  to  express  the  grati 
tude  I  feel  for  your  confidence  that  I  would  rather 
be  acquainted  with  the  full  measure  of  Paul's  mis 
fortune,  than  to  be  left  in  ignorance  of  it.  Oh, 
these  men !  Paul  is  one  of  the  best  and  truest,  but 
how  little  they  understand  our  women's  hearts! 
Your  friend, 

MARY  ARMITAGE. 

All  the  remainder  of  that  week  Amy  Judith  went 
about  with  a  conscience  heavy  burdened,  oddly 
silent  and  reticent  when  she  met  Armitage,  and 
escaping  from  his  society  on  every  possible  excuse. 


344  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

In  spite  of  these  chill  and  varying  moods,  she 
surprised  him  by  inviting  him  to  dinner  on  the  fol 
lowing  Sunday. 

Annitage  accepted  the  invitation  with  alacrity. 
The  wood-chopper's  wife  had  not  proved  a  success  as 
a  caterer,  and  his  meals  were  neither  well  cooked 
nor  agreeably  served.  Amy,  however,  repented  the 
invitation  as  soon  as  she  had  framed  it,  as  she  be 
thought  herself  of  the  embarrassments  that  might 
arise,  and  reflected  that  it  would  have  been  far 
more  considerate  to  have  permitted  these  two,  so 
long  apart,  to  enjoy  their  reunion,  with  all  its  pos 
sible  explanations  and  mutual  confessions,  in  ther 
seclusion  of  their  canon  home. 

On  the  appointed  day,  the  fateful  Sabbath,  Armi- 
tage  came  to  the  cottage  early,  so  early  that  Amy 
was  obliged  to  excuse  herself  to  give  Rob  directions 
to  drive  at  once  to  the  station  to  meet  the  after 
noon  train. 

"I  'm  expecting  a  friend  —  a  lady,  Rob." 

"And  never  told  me!  "  The  boy's  tone  was 
aggrieved.  "Why  did  you  make  a  secret  of  it, 
Amy?" 

"Rob,  it  is  —  Mrs.  Armitage." 

"Mrs.  Armitage!  "     Rob  gave  a  long  whistle. 

"Yes.  Please  don't  ask  a  word.  Only  be  sure 
to  get  there  in  time,  and  be  very  nice  to  her." 

Miss  Judith  was  so  absent-minded  that  afternoon, 
and  made  such  random  replies  to  her  visitor,  that 
he  began  to  feel  very  uncomfortable.  She  had  de 
cided  that  before  the  traveler  arrived  she  must  have 
a  little  talk  with  Armitage,  and  tell  him  what  she 


THE   WOMAN   OF   THE   PORTRAIT          345 

had  done,  but  she  heard  the  train  whistle  and  pass 
the  station  before  she  could  muster  courage  for  it. 

"Mr.  Armitage,"  she  said  hastily,  breaking  in 
upon  a  remark  of  his  concerning  the  weather. 

"Yes,  Miss  Amy?" 

He  lifted  his  head  with  a  startled  expression, 
impressed  by  her  serious  tone. 

"I  cannot  help  seeing  how  lonely  you  are,  and  I 
have  decided  that  you  must  have  —  her  —  come." 

"I  wouldn't  suggest  such  a  thing  to  her  for  the 
world,"  interposed  Armitage  positively. 

"Are  you  afraid  she  wouldn't  be  contented?" 

"That  is  n't  the  question.  You  don't  understand. 
She  has  always  lived  —  well,  not  exactly  in  affluence, 
but  she  has  been  used  to  every  comfort  and  atten 
tion.  She  has  never  known  privation  of  any  kind. 
She  would  probably  come  if  I  asked  her.  She 
might  not  repine.  It  is  I  who  would  be  miserable 
over  her  discomforts.  How  could  I  bear  to  know 
she  was  rasped  by  all  manner  of  little  discomforts, 
burdened  with  cares  I  was  powerless  to  lift,  secretly 
pining  for  her  old  home,  her  accustomed  surround 
ings  and  associates?  " 

"And  you  think  a  woman  who  truly  loves  a  man 
could  ever  reckon  the  trifles  you  speak  of?" 

"It  is  the  man  whose  duty  it  is  to  reckon,  to  be 
foresighted." 

"Mr.  Armitage,  you  cannot  change  matters  now. 
I  wrote  her  myself.  She  is  coming.  She  has  come 
on  this  very  train.  Rob  has  gone  to  meet  her.  I 
can  hear  the  wheels  now." 

"Impossible!"  he  cried,  but  she  could  see  the 


346  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

look  of  boyish  pleasure  that  leaped  into  his  face, 
brightening  all  his  features,  —  a  look  that  not  all  her 
attention  or  devotion  had  ever  called  forth. 

"And  one  word  more,  Mr.  Armitage.  You  made 
this  great  sacrifice  for  us  —  for  Rob  and  me,"  said 
Amy  Judith  humbly.  "There  is  just  one  thing 
for  us  to  do.  We  will  go  away  and  resign  all 
claim  to  the  land,  leave  it  all  to  you  and  your  wife." 

"My  wife!"  exclaimed  Paul  Armitage,  and  he 
sprang  from  his  chair  and  took  a  step  forward  in 
the  darkness,  groping  in  the  direction  of  her  vanish 
ing  footsteps.  But  he  heard  the  clatter  of  horse's 
hoofs,  the  rattle  of  wheels,  Rob's  gay  young  voice, 
and  another,  whose  dear  accents  he  had  not  heard 
for  many  weary  years. 

Amy  Judith  had  intended  to  go  calmly  forward 
and  welcome  the  new-comer  with  a  dignity  befitting 
her  part  of  hostess.  She  had  even  a  carefully 
prepared  little  speech  with  which  she  had  meant 
to  greet  her;  but  now,  as  she  saw  Rob  handing 
down  a  slender  veiled  figure,  smitten  with  a  sudden 
sense  of  anguish  and  desolation,  she  turned  and  fled 
up  the  mountain  side,  anywhere,  anywhere,  out  of 
sight  and  sound  of  that  reunion  which  she  suddenly 
discovered  it  was  beyond  her  strength  to  witness. 


CHAPTER   XLVI 
"THE  DEAREST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD" 

THE  lady  who  descended  from  the  cart  was  tall 
and  slender,  and  wore  her  dusty  traveling-garments 
with  a  stately  grace.  She  hastened  to  where  the 
tall  man  waited,  incredulous  expectation  in  his  face. 

"Oh,  Paul,  Paul!" 

With  sobs  and  inarticulate  murmurs  of  endear 
ment  she  hung  upon  him,  pressing  kisses  upon  the 
sightless  eyes,  whispering  tender  reproaches  in  his 
ears,  pouring  out  upon  him  the  pent-up  love  and 
tenderness  of  years. 

"And  you  would  not  tell  me!  "  she  cried  in  gen 
tle  reproof.  "You  would  have  left  me  in  ignorance 
of  your  trouble.  Oh,  Paul,  to  think  that  I  might 
never  have  known,  if  it  had  not  been  for  her,  —  for 
this  dear  Amy  Judith." 

"It  seemed  so  cruel!  "  he  said  brokenly.  "Now, 
when  you  most  needed  my  support  and  care,  my 
poor,  precious,  neglected  "  — 

"Hush,  dear !  No  hardship  that  enters  a  woman's 
life  can  be  half  so  bitter  as  to  be  refused  the  right 
to  share  the  misfortunes  and  sorrows  of  one  dear 
to  her." 

A  silence  fell  between  them,  —  a  silence  instinct 
with  that  perfect  trust  which  casts  out  doubt,  out 
lasts  life,  and  is  more  powerful  than  the  grave. 


348  THE  BLACK   CURTAIN 

"Where  is  Amy,  Paul?"  she  at  length  asked. 
"I  must  see  her." 

"She  was  here  only  a  moment  ago,"  replied  the 
young  man.  "I  was  speaking  with  her  as  you 
came.  I  supposed  she  went  to  meet  you." 

"I  certainly  had  a  glimpse  of  her  standing  in  the 
door  as  we  drove  up,"  said  the  lady  softly.  "It 
was  only  a  passing  look,  Paul,  but  I  am  sure  I 
never  saw  so  beautiful  a  little  creature  in  all  my 
life." 

Paul  Armitage  made  no  reply  to  this  enthusiastic 
speech,  but  he  pressed  the  hand  which  held  his  own. 

When  Amy  Judith  fled'  like  a  frightened  child 
from  her  little  home  at  the  approach  of  her  stranger 
guest,  she  instinctively  avoided  all  accustomed  paths, 
and  turned  in  the  direction  of  a  barren,  untraveled 
hillside.  One  hand  she  held  pressed  closely  against 
her  throat,  as  if  to  stifle  the  flood  of  anguish  rising 
there,  and  with  the  other  she  beat  back  the  thorny 
boughs  which  seemed  to  reach  out  a  thousand  prickly 
arms  to  mock  at  her  and  detain  her. 

"Amy!     Amy  Judith!" 

Rob,  who  had  observed  the  direction  in  which 
she  had  gone,  followed  after,  and  came  upon  her 
seated  on  a  stone  amid  a  dreary  waste  of  rock  and 
sagebrush,  her  face  as  dull  and  expressionless  as 
the  bleak  prospect  upon  which  her  eyes  were  fixed. 

"Amy!  They  are  calling  you!  "  said  Rob,  com 
ing  to  her  side. 

The  look  in  her  face  startled  him. 

"Why,  Amy,  it  can't  be  possible  that  you  dread 
meeting  her.  She  's  so  pleasant  and  kind  I  feel  as 


THE  DEAREST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD      349 

if  I  'd  known  her  all  my  life.  And  she  's  so  anx 
ious  to  know  you.  She  talked  about  you  half  the 
way." 

So  even  Rob  had  gone  over  to  the  enemy.  Amy 
felt  as  if  she  had  no  place  left  in  the  world,  but 
she  passively  rose  and  set  her  face  homeward,  feel 
ing  that  of  all  the  hard  ordeals  of  her  life,  the  most 
crucial  was  at  hand.  With  feminine  inconsistency, 
she  decided  that  she  would  rather  endure  the  sorest 
trial  than  to  welcome  to  their  peaceful  retreat  this 
new  and  alien  element,  or  to  submit  herself  to  the 
inspection  of  Paul  Armitage's  wife. 

Clad  in  some  misty  gray  fabric,  her  fragile  beauty 
seemed  to  take  on  a  new  and  spiritual  meaning  as 
she  halted  on  the  threshold,  shyly  viewing  the  two 
who  awaited  her. 

Paul  Armitage  was  holding  the  lady's  hand  in 
his  own,  but  he  was  leaning  forward,  intently  listen 
ing  to  her  step,  and  she  could  see  that,  no  matter 
how  dear  this  new-comer,  in  his  heart  a  deathless 
affection  hungered  for  her  presence. 

The  girl's  eyes  wandered  to  the  woman  by  his 
side.  She  saw  the  face  of  the  portrait,  sweeter  and 
lovelier,  though  years  had  passed  over  it,  leaving 
their  snows  on  the  bands  of  shining  dark  hair,  now 
silvery  white,  and  the  hand  that  Armitage  held  was 
shrunken  and  wrinkled. 

"Miss  Amy,"  he  said,  rising  as  she  came  slowly 
to  them,  "I  want  you  to  know  the  dearest  woman 
in  the  whole  world,  — my  mother! " 

One  moment  the  two  women  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes,  the  girl's  questioning  and  amazed,  the 


350  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

elder  lady's  gentle  and  loving;  then  Amy  Judith, 
softly  sobbing,  was  gathered  in  the  motherly  arms. 

Paul  Armitage  put  out  his  hand  and  groped  for 
Amy's  fair  head,  laying  it  softly  there. 

"You  are  blinder  than  I,  Amy!"  he  said  under 
his  breath,  and  passed  away,  leaving  the  two  women 
together. 

It  was  the  portrait  of  the  mother,  taken  in  early 
youth  and  gowned  after  the  fashion  of  forty  years 
before,  strangely  reproduced  in  the  fashions  of  the 
day,  which  Amy  Judith  had  seen,  and  whose  like 
ness  had  been  burned  upon  her  brain,  calling  forth 
fantastic  -visions  in  her  fever  and  delirium,  —  the 
loving  mother  whom  Paul  Armitage,  with  a  son's 
loyalty,  had  enshrined  in  his  heart,  and  who  had 
throughout  life  been  his  guiding  star,  holding  him 
aloof  from  the  temptations  and  allurements  that  had 
beset  his  path. 


CHAPTER   XLVII 
AMY  JUDITH'S  OPPORTUNITY 

To  Amy  Judith,  so  long  denied  a  mother's  love, 
there  was  something  inexpressibly  sweet  in  close 
daily  association  with  this  generous,  bountiful  wo 
manly  nature,  which,  like  a  hovering  dove,  took  her 
under  its  sheltering  wing. 

From  the  first,  the  tenderest  sympathy  existed 
between  the  two  women  so  strangely  brought  to 
gether,  but  a  time  soon  came  when  even  this  affec 
tionate  regard  entailed  its  measure  of  pain  upon 
them. 

"When  Poverty  knocks  at  the  door,  Love  flies 
out  of  the  window,"  is  a  proverb  so  trite  that  it 
would  long  ago  have  been  retired  in  company  with 
other  time-worn  saws,  were  it  not  that  we  see  it 
so  constantly  and  painfully  exemplified  in  the  lives 
of  people  around  us. 

When  life  becomes  a  stern  struggle  for  the  means 
of  existence,  there  is  little  leisure  for  sentiment. 
Groveling  care  was  pressing  closely  about  these 
dwellers  in  the  Vernal  Hills,  and  a  consuming 
anxiety  drove  content  from  their  hearths  and  took 
up  its  abode  beside  them. 

As  the  year  wore  on,  Amy  Judith  saw  Rob  laying 
down  youth  and  hope  under  the  pressure  of  more 


352  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

than  a  man's  work.  She  saw  Paul  Armitage's 
prediction  verified,  and  his  aged  mother  bowed 
under  her  new  weight  of  care,  while  her  delicate 
hands  were  growing  calloused  with  unaccustomed 
drudgery.  She  saw  a  deeper  shade  of  melancholy 
driving  the  transient  cheer  from  the  blind  man's 
face,  and  felt  that  by  her  own  ill-considered  act  she 
had  added  to  his  burden  of  anxiety. 

One  by  one  little  luxuries  were  banished  from 
their  tables ;  one  by  one  they  dispensed  with  accus 
tomed  comforts,  and  all  the  while  debt  was  accumu 
lating,  a  living  horror  to  the  two  women,  in  whose 
daily  greetings  the  recognition  of  threatening  dis 
tress  became  a  dumb  appeal,  a  piteous  entreaty. 

One  day  Amy  Judith  received  an  unexpected 
visitor  in  her  eyrie. 

"I  did  not  know  that  you  were  within  a  thousand 
miles  of  here,  Senator  Harmon,"  she  said.  "Mr. 
Armitage  will  be  so  gratified  to  see  you." 

"I  did  not  come  to  see  Armitage  this  time,"  was 
the  quiet  reply. 

When  Jasper  Harmon  went  on  to  the  national 
capital,  he  had  by  no  means  passed  out  of  the  lives 
of  the  dwellers  on  Escondido  Creek.  From  time 
to  time  letters  and  little  remembrances  had  borne 
witness  that  not  even  the  cares  of  State  could  banish 
them  from  his  mind ;  but  while  he  had  never  flagged 
in  his  faithful  consideration  for  Armitage,  his  let 
ters  became  more  and  more  of  a  personal  appeal  to 
the  woman  to  whom  they  were  addressed,  and  the 
time  came  when  Armitage  became  conscious  of  long 
passages  left  unread,  although  he  could  not  see  the 


AMY  JUDITH'S   OPPORTUNITY  353 

pretty  flush  that  mantled  the  girl's  cheek  as  her 
eyes  roved  over  them. 

Another  national  campaign  was  approaching,  and 
again  the  papers  were  busily  coupling  Harmon's 
name  with  the  high  office  to  which  it  had  long  been 
known  he  honorably  aspired. 

His  two  memories  of  Amy  Judith,  one  as  a  fair 
girl,  thrilling  all  hearts  and  prepared  to  capture  a 
world's  adoration  with  her  marvelous  gift  of  song, 
the  other  as  a  lovely,  well-poised  woman,  accepting 
her  homely  tasks  with  a  gracious  humility,  bearing 
disappointment  with  a  noble  patience,  had  made 
an  impression  upon  the  invincible  old  bachelor  such 
as  no  brilliant  society  belle  had  ever  succeeded  in 
producing.  He  began  his  wooing  in  a  way  char 
acteristic  of  the  man. 

"Miss  Judith,  the  world  does  me  the  honor  to 
call  me  a  successful  man.  In  reality,  my  life  is 
blank  and'  lonely.  I  'm  afraid  I  have  not  much  to 
offer  you  that  you  care  for,  but  if  you  will  consent 
to  be  my  wife,  all  I  have  shall  be  laid  at  your  feet, 
and  it  will  be  the  first  object  of  my  life  to  secure 
your  happiness." 

"Marriage  cannot  be  a  question  of  worldly  goods," 
began  the  girl,  with  heightened  color. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  so  much  as  alluding  to 
them,"  returned  Harmon  humbly,  but  inwardly 
pleased  at  the  girl's  original  manner  of  receiving 
a  proposal  which  all  the  other  marriageable  women 
of  his  acquaintance  would  have  accepted  with  smiles 
and  blushes.  Egad!  How  he  would  enjoy  confus 
ing  some  old  diplomats  of  his  acquaintance  with 
her  simple,  direct  ways ! 


354  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"Then,  if  a  lifetime  of  devotion  "  — 

"Senator  Harmon,  please  stop  right  there!"  in 
terposed  the  girl  eagerly.  "  It  cannot  be.  To  dis 
cuss  it  would  only  be  to  spoil  our  friendship." 

"But  I  cannot  give  you  up  like  this,  little 
woman!  "  cried  Harmon,  and  forthwith  surprised 
himself  and  frightened  the  girl  with  the  vehemence 
of  his  wooing.  He  had  never  been  an  insincere  or 
hypocritical  man ;  he  had  known  broad  sympathies 
and  loyal  friendships,  had  generously  espoused  the 
cause  of  the  weak,  and  had  been  a  diligent  and 
incorruptible  public  servant;  but  hitherto  he  had 
dwelt  only  in  the  shallows  of  existence.  For  the 
first  time  he  found  himself  struggling  in  the  deeps, 
all  his  suavity  and  ready  wit  gone,  powerless  to 
express  the  sentiments  that  overpowered  him.  He, 
who  had  bent  great  assemblies  to  his  will,  who  had 
influenced  legislation  by  the  force  of  his  eloquence 
and  logic,  found  himself  unable  to  sway  the  decision 
of  this  one  small  woman. 

"How  can  I  endure  to  give  you  up?"  he  cried 
passionately;  "to  see  you  going  on  year  after  year, 
discharging  the  most  menial  drudgery,  bowing  and 
aging  under  your  homely  cares!  If  you  had  pre 
served  your  voice,  you  might  have  shaped  your  life 
as  you  chose.  But  to  go  on  climbing  this  treadmill 
of  care,  —  I  cannot  bear  it !  " 

"  It  is  good  to  climb,  although  it  be  nothing  but 
a  treadmill!"  said  the  girl  quaintly.  "And  some 
day  the  treadmill  may  travel  to  the  mountain  top, 
and  all  things  are  possible  to  those  who  reach  the 
heights  after  a  long  and  weary  climb." 


AMY  JUDITH'S  OPPORTUNITY  355 

Was  there  a  mysterious  meaning  in  her  words? 
A  happy  smile  played  about  her  lips  for  one  brief 
instant  and  then  faded,  leaving  only  a  look  of  sweet 
seriousness. 

The  senator  took  up  his  hat.  The  battle  was 
over,  and  he  was  too  good  a  general  not  to  recognize 
defeat. 

"Good-by!  Give  my  regards  to  Armitage,  and 
do  not  quite  forget  me,  little  woman,  when  you 
have  reached  the  heights.  Remember  that  I  would 
have  liked  to  smooth  your  pathway." 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  he  saw  the  first  evi 
dence  of  kindly  feeling  in  her  moist  eyes,  but  there 
was  no  recall  in  her  glance,  and  he  passed  down 
the  mountain  and  out  of  her  life. 

Although  Harmon,  on  this  occasion,  had  left  his 
private  car  behind  and  traveled  in  the  modesty  of 
a  private  citizen,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  so 
distinguished  a  man  could  make  a  movement  that 
was  not  ferreted  out  by  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  daily 
press  and  made  the  subject  of  curious  speculation. 
Various  rumors  were  current  concerning  his  visit, 
one  being  that  the  national  government  had  deter 
mined  to  establish  a  mammoth  zoological  garden  in 
the  Vernal  Hills,  and  that  Harmon  had  visited  the 
district  to  investigate  its  climate  and  facilities  and 
to  report  upon  them.  Another  accredited  the  sen 
ator  himself  with  the  intention  of  investing  in  a 
large  tract  for  the  cultivation  of  semi-tropical  fruits. 
Local  citizens,  acquainted  with  the  fact  of  his 
former  visit  to  Armitage,  ascribed  his  present  fly 
ing  trip  to  the  same  purpose,  and  thus  it  happened 


356  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

that  friendly  inquiry  brought  to  the  blind  man 
knowledge  of  his  friend's  recent  proximity,  and  he 
was  left  to  form  his  own  conclusions  as  to  the  pur 
pose  of  Harmon's  visit. 

The  blind  have  little  to  divert  their  minds  from  a 
steadfast  chronicle  of  the  events  which  come  within 
the  circle  of  their  experience.  Hence  it  was  that 
Armitage  was  afterwards  enabled  to  date  back  to 
the  time  of  Harmon's  visit  the  beginning  of  cer 
tain  mysterious  behavior  of  Amy  Judith's,  and  to 
draw  his  own  conclusions  as  to  its  meaning. 


CHAPTER   XLVIII 

RENUNCIATION 

"MOTHER,  she  is  tiring  of  it  all." 

"Amy  Judith?" 

"Yes,  Amy.  To  expect  her  to  be  forever  recon 
ciled  to  this  life  of  toil  and.  privation  would  be  to 
expect  some  wild,  free  bird  of  the  woods  to  be  blithe 
and  gay,  shut  up  in  a  rusty  cage." 

Mrs.  Armitage  had  noted  Amy's  odd  restless 
ness,  her  growing  indifference  to  household  cares 
which  she  had  formerly  conscientiously  performed, 
even  her  neglect  of  little  attentions  hitherto  faith 
fully  rendered  Armitage,  many  of  them  under  his 
protest. 

"She  is  so  young! "  the  mother  said,  with  a  sigh. 

"It  is  only  natural  she  should  grow  impatient," 
said  Armitage  sadly.  "  To  expect  otherwise  would 
be  an  injustice  to  her  youth.  We  could  not  hope 
to  keep  her  here  forever.  To  do  so  would  be  to 
defraud  her  of  youth's  rightful  heritage,  of  congen 
ial  companionship  adapted  to  her  years,  of  cheerful 
surroundings,  of  all  the  little  diversions  that  lighten 
life  and  rob  it  of  dull  care.  In  her  tenderness  of 
heart  she  might  have  been  ready  to  make  the  sacri 
fice.  I  gave  her  up  when  this  came  upon  me, 
mother." 


358  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"Oh,  Paul,  Paul!" 

She  bowed  her  head  above  him,  arid  a  tear,  an 
old  woman's  bitter,  hard-wrung  tear,  fell  on  his 
brown  hair. 

After  a  little  pause  Armitage  went  on  cheer- 
fully:- 

"Harmon  was  up  here  a  month  ago,  mother. 
He  came  to  see  her  alone.  There  is  only  one  ex 
planation  for  his  visit.  And  it  is  since  then  that 
she  has  taken  to  these  solitary  walks  in  the  hills. 
She  is  rarely  at  home.  She  comes  here  at  longer 
and  longer  intervals.  What  answer  she  gave  him 
I  do  not  know,  but  a  man  like  Harmon  should 
command  any  woman's  love,  and  sooner  or  later 
he  will  win.  He  is  a  splendid  fellow,  well  worthy 
of  her." 

At  this  instant  Amy  Judith  called  out  a  gay  little 
greeting,  on  her  way  up  the  mountain  trail.  Her 
face  was  sparkling,  her  voice  joyous,  and  her  step 
light  and  free.  The  mother  sighed  as  she  turned 
from  the  bonny  girl  to  her  son,  depressed,  discon 
solate,  aging  before  he  had  reached  his  prime. 

The  sound  of  the  blithe  young  voice  was  a  stimu 
lus  to  Armitage.  He  rose  from  his  chair,  shaking 
off  the  melancholy  that  weighed  him  down,  as  if  it 
had  been  a  cumbrous  garment,  to  be  flung  off  at 
pleasure. 

"I  shall  look  backward  no  more,  mother,  nor 
burden  myself  with  useless  regrets.  I  am  still  a 
strong  man,  and  must  sustain  my  part  in  life.  If 
one  sense  has  been  taken  from  me,  that  is  all  the 
more  reason  why  I  should  make  the  most  of  what 


RENUNCIATION  359 

is  left.  I  have  brains,  a  good  education,  some  pro 
ficiency  as  a  linguist,  and  a  fund  of  reminiscence 
that  will  grow  more  valuable  as  the  years  go  by.  I 
have  no  doubt  I  might  negotiate  a  magazine  article 
or  so  about  art  study  abroad.  First  of  all,  I  must 
get  back  to  the  city,  where  I  can  employ  my  abili 
ties  to  the  best  advantage.  You  shall  go  with  me, 
mother,  and  we  will  scandalize  Bohemia  by  setting 
up  a  bit  of  New  England  housekeeping  in  her 
midst." 

"Could  n't  you  be  content  to  live  on  here,  Paul?" 
asked  the  mother  wistfully,  for  she  dreaded  change 
with  the  sensitiveness  of  age,  which  finds  its  sorest 
trial  in  conforming  to  new  conditions  and  new  sur 
roundings. 

"  Here !  —  where  every  step  I  take  would  remind 
me  of  the  happiness  I  had  lost!"  said  Armitage 
sadly.  "I  should  go  mad.  My  only  salvation  is  in 
finding  new  surroundings,  new  interests.  There  is 
not  a  rock  or  tree  around  here  that  is  not  in 
some  way  associated  with  her,  mother.  The  very 
breeze  that  blows  would  bring  memories  of  her.  I 
must  go  where  I  can  forget." 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival 
of  Rob,  breathless  with  haste  and  excitement. 

"They  are  going  to  make  the  survey  of  the  land 
at  last!"  he  cried.  "I  saw  Fowler  down  at  the 
station.  He  is  to  run  the  lines,  and  he  told  me  to 
tell  you  that  as  soon  as  he  has  finished,  the  plat  will 
be  placed  in  the  Receiver's  office.  It  will  be  neces 
sary  to  file  as  soon  as  that  is  done." 

Armitage  listened  to  this  announcement  without 
concern. 


360  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  have  Fowler  up  here,"  he 
said  quietly.  "But  I  am  no  longer  interested  in 
the  filing."- 

"But  we  want  you  to  file  upon  it!  "  insisted  Rob 
firmly.  "Amy  will  never  touch  it,  and  if  you  don't 
enter  the  tract,  some  one  else  will  be  sure  to  file 
when  the  sixty  days'  limit  has  expired." 

"Then  file  upon  it  yourself ,  Rob.  I  hereby  re 
linquish  every  claim  I  may  have,  in  your  favor,  and 
make  you  a  free  gift  of  my  improvements.  I  could 
not  comply  with  the  law's  requirements.  A  home 
stead  claim  demands  constant  residence,  and  I  am 
going  away." 

The  very  earth  seemed  to  collapse  under  Rob's 
feet  with  this  intelligence.  He  succeeded  in  con 
trolling  his  voice  and  shakily  asking:  — 

"Where?" 

"Back  to  the  city,  Rob.  I  am  beginning  to  real 
ize  that  I  may  find  a  field  of  usefulness  up  there. 
Some  of  my  brother  artists  made  me  an  offer  last 
spring,  which  appeared  to  me  rather  absurd  at  the 
time,  but  now  I  'm  thinking  seriously  of  accepting 
it,  with  modifications." 

Rob  fumbled  with  some  books  lying  on  the  table 
beside  him,  then  bent  for  a  close  examination  of 
the  Japanese  throne-chair,  one  of  whose  joints  was 
getting  weak. 

"Have  you  told  Amy?  "  he  asked  at  length. 

"Not  yet." 

"I  think  you  ought." 

Could  Armitage  have  seen  the  boy's  frank  face, 
he  would  have  read  there  the  tokens  of  a  secret 


RENUNCIATION  361 

which  was  growing  altogether  too  weighty  for  the 
boy's  keeping. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  her  now,"  said  Armitage, 
reaching  for  his  hat  and  stick. 

The  hard  toil  and  heavy  cares  of  the  past  two 
years  had  hastened  Rob's  development.  Stalwart 
of  figure  andi  earnest  of  countenance,  his  boyhood's 
error  had  bextomje  the  strength  of  his  manhood,  steel 
ing  him  agafnsfr  temptation,  teaching  him  a  gentle 
humility,  and  at  the  same  time  instilling  in  his 
heart  broad  charity  and  sympathy  for  others,  which 
invested  an  originally  arbitrary  and  self-sufficient 
nature  with  a  rarely  winning  personality. 

He  made  no  further  remark,  but  silently  waited, 
while  Armitage  passed  out  of  the  door,  and  in  the 
direction  the  girl  had  gone,  walking  with  a  free, 
firm  stride  along  the  accustomed  path.  Soon  he 
disappeared  from  sight  in  the  windings  of  the  gulch, 
but  Rob;  eagerly  watching,  saw  him  reappear,  climb 
ing  the  steep  trail  leading  to  the  summit  of  the 
range.  Mrs.  Armitage  joined  him,  looking  over  his 
shoulder. 

"He  goes  about  so  fearlessly,"  she  said  anxiously, 
"and  in  places  where  I  would  not  dare  trust  myself 
if  I  had  a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes.  But  he  enjoys  it  so, 
I  do  not  like  to  discourage  him.  He  has  never  gone 
so  far  before.  Do  you  think  it  is  safe?  "  she  asked 
the  boy,  wistfully  following  the  dark  figure  sil 
houetted  against  the  tawny  brown  of  the  hills. 

"Perfectly  safe!  "  Rob  assured  her,  with  the 
happy  security  of  youth.  Then  a  sudden  recollec 
tion  smote  him. 


362  THE   BLACK  CURTAIN 

"  Oh,  the  washout,  —  the  washout  that  carried 
away  the  trail  last  spring!  "  he  cried,  in  horror.  "I 
don't  believe  he  knows !  And  he  's  already  so  far 
up !  God  help  him !  God  help  me ! " 

The  boy  flung  himself  out  of  the  door,  tearing  off 
his  coat  as  he  ran.  Mrs.  Armitage,  dimly  com 
prehending  the  threatening  danger,  followed  after, 
a  wan  and  pathetic  figure,  tottering  along  the  rugged 
path,  with  gray  hair  flying,  and  before  her  eyes  the 
awful  spectacle  of  the  dread  abyss  toward  which  the 
blind  man's  feet  were  so  unconsciously  walking. 


CHAPTER   XLIX 

LIGHT   IN   DARKNESS 

UNCONSCIOUS  of  threatening  danger,  Armitage 
swung  himself  along  the  mountain  trail,  drinking 
in  new  strength  with  every  breath.  The  loss  of  one 
faculty  seemed  to  have  increased  the  delicacy  and 
keenness  of  his  remaining  senses,  and  although  he 
could  no  longer  see  the  many  tinted  blossoms  and 
rich  green  verdure  that  lined  his  path,  their  subtle 
fragrance  flowed  like  a  cordial  through  his  veins. 

His  ear  was  no  less  finely  attuned  to  every  sound 
that  thrilled  the  solitudes.  The  sweet  calls  of  birds 
and  their  happy  songs,  the  hum  of  insects,  the  tin 
kling  of  distant  rills,  the  murmur  of  the  wind  that 
sighed  down  the  canon,  seemed  to  him  to  blend 
with  innumerable  minor  cadences,  to  which  common 
ears  were  deaf,  —  the  soft  movements  of  growing 
plants,  the  stir  of  the  sap  as  it  quickened  the  bare 
boughs,  —  all  uniting  to  form  a  glorious  anthem, 
nature's  own  choral  harmony. 

To-day  he  seemed  to  hear  at  intervals  a  new  note 
in  this  great  song.  He  bent  his  head,  listening 
intently.  Somewhere,  far  up  in  the  hills,  there 
was  a  burst  of  melody  swelling  in  full,  liquid  notes, 
falling  away  in  a  cadence  clear  and  sweet  as  the 
song  of  the  hermit  thrush,  then  sporting  itself  in 


364  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

a  series  of  playful  trills.  The  very  birds  seemed 
to  hush  their  songs  in  the  thickets,  hearkening  to 
this  wonderful  human  Voice  exulting  its  power  in 
the  high  altitude. 

Armitage  pressed  eagerly  on  in  the  direction  of 
the  Voice,  his  head  uplifted  and  thrown  back,  his 
soul  going  out  in  joyous  greeting  to  the  singer  who 
had  finished  the  long  and  rugged  climb  and  stood 
triumphant  on  the  heights. 

He  was  coming  now  to  the  one  perilous  part  of 
the  trail,  and  he  remembered  the  slender  path  run 
ning  like  a  thread  along  the  face  of  a  perpendicular 
wall  of  earth  and  stone,  and  the  great  boulder  mid 
way,  where  a  narrow  shelf  of  rock  afforded  a  slight 
but  firjn  footing.  What  he  did  not  know  was  that 
the  big  stone,  dislodged  by  the  heavy  rains  of  the 
preceding  season,  was  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the 
gulch,  and  that  the  mountaineers  had  made  a  new 
trail  around  and  above  this  point,  unwilling  to  trust 
their  sure-footed  pack-animals  to  its  passage,  with 
a  caving  cliff  of  earth  and  rock  above  and  a  fall  of 
a  thousand  feet  below. 

The  Voice  was  nearer  now,  but  blending  with  it 
and  producing  strange  confusion  and  discord,  he 
seemed  to  hear  a  chorus  of  cries  from  the  trail 
below,  —  terrified,  warning  voices,  calling  out  in 
entreaty  and  pain.  Once  he  halted  for  an  instant 
and  listened,  but  more  distinct  in  his  ear  was  the 
soft  flutter  of  a  frightened  bird,  darting  from  her 
nest  in  a  thorn-tree,  the  rush  of  wings  as  she  crossed 
his  path,  the  cheery,  reassuring  call  of  her  mate 
from  a  neighboring  thicket,  the  low  cry  of  the  nes 
tlings  clamoring  for  food. 


LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS  365 

He  was  on  the  narrow  trail  now,  and  he  walked 
with  more  caution,  touching  the  bank  on  his  right 
with  his  stick,  knowing  perfect  security  demanded 
that  he  should  keep  close  to  this  inner  wall. 

A  turn  of  the  trail  brought  him  to  the  slope  on 
the  summit  of  which  the  Singer  stood. 

The  Voice  was  only  a  little  further  on.  He  could 
hear  the  words  of  the  gay  song  it  caroled,  the 
happy,  care-free  song,  telling  that  from  the  Singer's 
life  the  clouds  had  rolled  away,  and  henceforth  her 
path  lay  in  the  clear  sunshine  amid  the  plaudits  of 
all  human-kind. 

How  the  melody  soared  out  upon  the  air,  inspir 
ing,  exulting,  rejoicing  in  its  own  strength  and 
sweetness.  His  heart  was  lifted  up  by  the  music, 
and  his  soul  climbed  the  heights  where  the  Singer 
stood,  unconscious  of  his  coming,  reveling  in  her 
gift,  waking  the  echoes  of  the  hills,  which  seemed 
to  follow  her  like  some  divine  refrain. 

He  was  nearing  the  washout  now.  A  few  more 
steps  and  he  would  reach  the  brink  of  the  chasm, 
and  Death  would  be  upon  him  with  a  thunderous 
rush  and  roar  and  a  yawning  sepulchre  in  the  depths 
of  the  deep  fissure.  Oh,  that  some  Divine  hand 
might  be  outstretched  to  warn  and  save  him ! 

And  now  the  song  suddenly  faltered  and  died 
away.  Armitage  pressed  on,  but  his  face  grew 
bewildered,  and  he  walked  like  a  man  in  a  dream, 
disappointment  and  discouragement  growing  with 
every  step. 

The  Singer  had  seen  him  treading  the  abandoned 
trail,  walking  unawares  into  deadly  peril,  and  her 


360  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

heart  semed  to  die  within  her  at  the  sight.  To 
disturb  him  by  a  cry  of  warning  would  be  to  seal 
his  doom.  There  seemed  no  hope  for  any  human 
help  or  intervention.  For  an  instant  the  mountains 
seemed  to  reel  about  her,  the  sunshine  was  blotted 
out,  and  all  the  world  grew  dim  before  her  eyes. 

Then  suddenly  she  rallied  all  her  strength  and 
forced  herself  to  think  clearly  and  quickly.  Only 
instant  and  intelligent  action  might  save  him.  There 
was  no  longer  chance  for  him  to  halt  or  turn  back. 
Already  the  broken  earth  was  almost  beneath  his 
feet.  Hesitation  meant  destruction  of  his  only  hope, 
and  in  another  moment  fie  might  be  pausing,  inde 
cisive,  hearkening  again  for  the  Voice  which  had 
been  his  beacon  in  the  darkness. 

Solemn  and  sweet  and  slow,  swelling  with  new 
power  and  majesty,  the  Voice  arose  in  Haydn's 
mighty  anthem,  "  The  heavens  are  telling  the  glory 
of  God." 

Armitage  had  reached  the  break  in  the  trail. 
His  stick,  extended  to  tap  the  wall  at  his  right, 
dislodged  a  shower  of  loose  dirt  and  stones  which 
rattled  down  the  abyss,  carrying  others  with  them 
and  making  a  thunderous  din  in  the  gulch  below. 
The  ground  was  crumbling  beneath  his  feet,  his 
staff  touched  nothing  before. 

The  Singer  was  on  her  knees  now,  her  hands 
clasped,  staring  in  agony  before  her.  Her  white 
lips  could  scarce  shape  the  words  of  the  anthem, 
but  the  Voice  still  rose,  calm,  majestic,  uplifting, 
"The  wonder  of  his  work  proclaims  the  firmament." 

The  strong,  solemn  melody  seemed  to  sustain  and 


LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS  367 

uplift  Armitage  even  as  the  stars  draw  men's  souls 
upward.  A  moment's  indecision,  an  instant  of 
panic  or  uncertainty,  and  he  would  have  been  lost, 
but  even  as  he  felt  the  ground  crumbling  beneath 
his  feet  he  rested  his  hand  lightly  on  the  crumbling 
bank,  and  swinging  himself  forward  with  a  great 
spring  landed  on  firm  ground  on  the  trail  beyond  the 
break. 

"Safe!  "  shouted  Rob,  the  awful  strain  over,  and 
grown  suddenly  conscious  of  that  pitiful,  feeble 
figure  toiling  up  the  trail  behind  him.  A  gray- 
haired  woman  sank  weakly  on  the  hillside  to  pour 
out  her  heart  in  thanksgiving  to  her  Maker,  and 
it  was  there  the  young  fellow  found  her  when  he 
turned  back  to  lend  her  his  stout  support  in  retrac 
ing  the  steep  path. 

"Safe!" 

The  echo  of  the  cry  reached  Armitage,  but  he 
gave  it  no  heed.  The  Voice  he  had  been  so  eagerly 
following  had  suddenly  and  mysteriously  ceased. 
He  hurried  along  the  trail,  oppressed  by  a  vague 
fear,  calling  aloud,  but  receiving  no  answer.  Had 
Song  and  Singer  been  nothing  but  a  wild  fancy,  a 
fiction  of  imagination  playing  upon  his  sensitive 
hearing?  Perplexed  and  wondering,  he  pressed 
forward,  possessed  only  by  a  generous  longing  to 
be  the  first  to  lay  his  homage  at  the  Singer's  feet. 

He  had  not  far  to  go.  At  the  widening  of  the 
trail  as  it  crossed  the  summit  he  came  to  where  a 
slight  figure  knelt,  mute  and  helpless,  now  that  the 
tense  strain  was  over.  Even  before  his  groping 
hands  touched  her,  he  seemed  to  know  her  pre- 


368  THE  BLACK  CURTAIN 

sence,  and  his  face  was  transfigured  with  unself 
ish  joy. 

"The  days  of  care  and  toil  and  anxiety  have 
gone  by  for  you.  Now  you  have  your  crown  again, 
with  its  shining  jewel,  Amy,"  he  cried,  rejoicing. 

Her  answer  came  so  low  and  faint  that  he  must 
fain  stoop  to  hear  it. 

"But  the  manzanita  berries  are  dearer!  " 

Armitage  passed  his  hand  over  her  head  and 
face,  and  thus  became  conscious  of  her  kneeling 
posture  and  of  her  wet  cheeks. 

"Why,  Amy,  what  is  this?  Tears  in  the  mo 
ment  of  triumph!  Dear  child,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"The  broken  trail!  I  was  watching  you,  and 
you  were  in  such  dreadful  danger,"  she  faltered. 
"There  was  a  great  hole  washed  in  the  path,  and 
an  awful  fall  below.  You  did  not  know.  I  was 
sure  you  were  lost." 

"And  your  tender  heart  went  out  to  the  blind 
man  in  his  peril,"  he  said,  striving  to  divest  the 
incident  of  any  deeper  meaning,  and  to  take  no 
advantage  of  her  overwrought  nerves.  "I  must  be 
more  careful  hereafter,  if  by  my  heedlessness  I  run 
the  risk  of  bringing  such  distress  to  my  unselfish 
little  friend." 

He  gently  raised  her  to  her  feet,  but  she  shivered 
and  clung  to  him,  so  that  he  must  fain  support  her 
on  his  strong  arm. 

"My  little  queen  among  women,  you  may  now 
take  your  rightful  place  in  the  world  again.  Your 
rich  gift  is  restored.  Let  me  be  the  first  to  con 
gratulate  you." 


LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS  369 

Did  her  woman's  intuition  reveal  the  noble  re 
nunciation  underlying  his  friendly  words,  or  had 
the  dread  calamity  that  had  drawn  so  near  swept 
away  the  last  vestige  of  affectation  or  reserve? 

"It  is  worth  nothing  to  me  unless  it  brings  help 
and  comfort  and  happiness  to  you,"  she  said  softly. 
"When  the  hope  first  came,  I  cherished  it  for  your 
sake.  All  the  effort  and  all  the  joy  have  been  for 
you.  But  if  you  no  longer  care  "  — 

She  made  a  faint  attempt  to  free  herself  from  his 
sustaining  arm,  but  he  held  her  to  his  heart,  and 
all  the  world  was  suddenly  glorified  to  his  darkened 
eyes. 


CAMBRIDGE,  MASSACHUSETTS,  U.  S.  A. 

ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY 

H.  O.  HOUGHTON  AND  CO. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


315 


3  1158  01290  4842 


UC  SOUTHERN  REG  ONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000024858    3 


